


The Edge of the Coil

by Liquid_Moon



Series: The Outcast Outliers [2]
Category: Lucifer (Comic), The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gay Undertones, Hand Feeding, Humiliation, Humor, Jealousy, Role Reversal, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Whipping, sex comes later in the work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:07:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 39
Words: 130,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liquid_Moon/pseuds/Liquid_Moon
Summary: Lucifer gets sick of being the ruler of Hell and sneakes into Earth where he disguises as a University Professor, meets a botany expert (Poison Ivy) and gets all tangled up with her. muhahaha.
Relationships: Lucifer Morningstar/Poison Ivy, Mazikeen/Lucifer Morningstar (Vertigo Comics)
Series: The Outcast Outliers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670776
Comments: 96
Kudos: 22





	1. Let There be Light

**Author's Note:**

> So. Here is my version of Lucifer's story (the one in the comic book, NOT the horrid TV version), and here is how I interpret his character and sexual relationships. Initially I woz thinking about pairing him up with Maze- the natural choice-, but I gotta say I find their relationship kinda dull and boring- she was his from the beginning and gave him everything- that isn't appealing in my opinion, although she's a great character... therefore decided to spice things up and pair him with Poison Ivy, who is way more unpredictable and flexible. I started working on this thing in July and intented to edit and release it only in the summer; However due to CoronaVirus situation that keeps many of us at home- I have time on my hands, so here it is... Worth to mention that sex comes in later, coz this is what makes the most sense to me (personally, I would like to get to know my characters before they penetrate each other), and also that this is a part of a series called 'The Outcast Outliers' that puts the spotlight on the less popular 'heroes'. This fanfic is going to be about 40 chapters long, like the previous one- all your comments are welcome, even if they're negative- I appreciate the feedback. ALWAYS.

Chapter 1 – Let there be Light

_"I am nothing without his ghost within  
And all your wooden eyes cannot see  
The good hand upon me_

_I took my shelter 'neath the familiar tree  
I'm livin' where I come from  
I am, I am a father's son  
See the good hand, see what the good hand done." ["The Good Hand", Wovenhand] _

From the deep and derelict planes of his kingdom -a _forlorn_ kingdom, a junkyard and a nasty place to all opinions - came a scorching wind that burnt skin off flesh and flesh off bones, and it was broiling. Upon its wings the vile wind was carrying a screechy feminine voice that _pleaded_ and _demanded_ its owner's molestation. "Rape me!", "Take me!" it begged and begged for many days, only ever stopping to be exchanged with a mournful weeping that echoed from the jagged land and the mountain peaks.

It was impossible to _sleep_.

Secluded in his serrated and bending obsidian tower, he walked restlessly within the basalt walls and did his best to ignore the perpetual wailing, until losing his patience on the sixth day, as there was no change. Someone was not doing their job, and unfortunately, it was _his_ job to make sure that they did.

The Demon Lord made his way downstairs and spread his leather wings once he was out, grimacing at the ruddy and desolate dreariness that stretched into the dusty horizon and snorting out mucus after a cloud of smelly sulfur hit him straight in the face. He flapped his big wings and soared into the dense air, following the sound of the tortured soul that has been torturing his mind beyond all reasonable legitimacy. If this was a new resident, then the rule required that she will be tended to instantly; and if this was an old one, there was definitely no _reason_ for this disarray.

The former angel flew over lakes of lava, caves of nightcrawlers and rivers of hissing steam. As he passed, gliding, his subjects yelled and hailed from below. Some cursed, indeed, and some threw flaming rocks at him- but why mention it. He flew for many moons, for his kingdom had no limits and it broadened and extended beyond all imagination. He neither ate nor rested, and when he needed to piss, he unloaded his urine unto the changing occurrences and sceneries below. If they were lucky enough to catch it on time, some demons pointed at the skies and opened their mouths to collect the droplets on their tongues- that's worthy of mentioning, because some of them adored him still.

As he reached his destination- the source of the sound- the Demon Lord was tired. He was also surprised to realise that he was at the gates of his kingdom- the very end of it. The very start. He spotted the wailing woman instantly- she was a human girl of 18, dressed as a nun and writhing in the dirt next to the gate- tearing her hair out. At least what was left of it, which wasn't much. Bald spots were showing on her blonde scalp and Asmodeus – his loyal servant- was looming over her and whipping her repeatedly with a stale tail of a crocodile –"Enough!" he hollered –"Enough, settle down!". His mount- a winged lion with a scaled dragon neck was crouching before her and baring its blackened, stinking teeth – threatening- but the girl would not submit.

"What is going on here?" demanded the Lord.

Startled, Asmodeus dropped the whip and went down on his knees before his master –"Forgive me, Your Wickedness, I haven't seen you arrive!" said his human head; "Baahh!" said the sheep head. The Lord crossed his arms on his chest –"Well!?" he urged his three-headed servant impatiently –"Would you care to _explain_ to me why you would not rape the poor girl who has been asking for it so nicely?"

("Rape me!", "Take me!" – continued the girl to plead in the background and crawled on the cracked earth as the Lord looked down on his sniveling servant).

"She wouldn't allow it, Your Horridness."

"Would not _allow_ it?" stated the Lord ironically –"What kind of talk is that?" he bowed down to grab his servant by the horns of his grotesque sheep head –"Is that not the point of rape? Taking someone when they don't _allow_ it?"

"Bahhhh!" bleated the sheep head.

"Speak an intelligible tongue, if you will." Pressed the Lord impatiently.

"She…" began the human head and a dozen flies buzzed out of his mouth –"She claims the Devil made her do it-"

"Do _what_?"

"Fuck the electrician who arrived at the monastery when she was alive. She used to be a nun, you see. She tortured herself for two years before hanging herself for it in the garage. Because she let him defile her. Because she let herself be defiled… because she defiled-"

"Asmodeus," the Lord uttered with cracking restraint –"If I had the wish to listen to every story of every single soul that ends up in my realm, I would never get anything done around here. Now-" He thumped the demon on his stupid sheep head –"Will you get to the point?"

"Your Evilness," drooled the demon –"She demands to get fucked by Satan himself."

The lord frowned and slapped the sheep head on his cheek –"I told you never to call me by that name!"

"Apologies, Your Crankiness! But I didn't call you that, I just quoted the-"

"You're the demon of lust, that is the demon of _sex_." Clarified the Lord –"In case you have forgotten because the blood never goes to your brain- your duty is to see that all sexual activities within these boundaries are supervised and handled and that all carnal wishes are fulfilled. Now why is this such a complicated task all of a sudden?"

"Your Unholiness, I have _tried_!"

"You have tried?" the Lord's words were soaking in derision –"You either do, or do not. There is no 'tried'". 

"Your Lordship- when I touched her, came a blinding light!" blurted the servant, clearly scared.

"Well then, let there be light." Answered the Lord with tiredness and released the sheep.

"You mean-" stuttered the demon.

"I am not _mean_ , I am indifferent to your ineptitude. It is hardly the same thing. Now get to it."

"No, I meant that –"

"Do it, before I shove one of your pretty heads up your hairy behind. You know I always keep my promises."

"Yes, your-"

"My?" The Lord raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Your _grace_." Asmodeus shook his three heads, then got to his feet hesitantly. With a look over his shoulder, seeking reassurance from his master – he bumbled forward and stepped on his lion's tail by error– which earned him an angry roar and a scratch to his bull's face. He whined like a little girl.

"Go on." Said the Lord and followed him with an impassive gaze as he approached the pathetic human, taking his enormous and furry erection in a shuddering hand and aiming it towards her as if it were a cannon- then she wailed so violently, as though she were slaughtered- and the promised blinding light came, hitting Asmodeus in the chest and sending him stumbling to topple over his already furious mount, that bit off his member in a snap.

"Ahhhhahhh!" cried the demon –"What is this force?" he sat down holding onto his crotch as his member was growing right back in what had to be a painful process. The lion, on the other hand, was munching on what he was able to take off.

"I believe it is called faith." Replied the Lord –"Happens sometimes when people who regard themselves as saints or part-saints land in here." He sighed –"Well then, I guess there isn't any choice." He walked over to the girl and hoisted her by her cloak. "Rape me!", "Take me!" she went on and on.

"Yeah, yeah, you shall be raped alright," he said, rolling his eyes and leaning her against the gates of Hell from inside –"but for your information, it isn't considered rape if you want it." The girl stopped screaming once in his hold, which was a blessed change. "Thank you," she murmured –"Thank you-" and almost fainted as he removed her clothes with lithe fingers. "For heavens' sake-" he said to himself as he pushed into her, ignoring the pitiful sounds. He was thinking about using her hair for leverage, but there was not enough of it left, so he used the bars of the gates instead. Talking while he was at it –"Next time this happens-" he instructed his servant –"You go and search for a priest or a monk- there's many of them infesting the caves. Get one to give the nun permission to fuck someone else. _Anyone_ else. But do not bother me with this sort of thing again."

"Yes, your Wickedness, yes Sire…. Yes… " Mumbled the servant, working his new dick and jerking off to watch his master performing his unwanted chore.

"Right." The Lord came unsatisfied and poured his sterile semen into the womb of the former-nun, squinting as he pulled out. 

"There." He said to her –"You've got the devil's seed in you now." He backed away from her as she clung sobbing to the bars, uttering the name of God –"If you feel like having sex again, then choose a mate to your liking. Hell is full of perfectly fit horny tenants, and since you're already officially a sinner, you do not need permission. Got it?"

The girl nodded.

"Excellent. Then do not call my name again," he batted his large wings –"And if you do, for any reason whatsoever, never use 'Satan', thank you." He jumped into the fuming air, but a moment before fleeing, he called down to his servant –"I suggest you replace that ridiculous form of yours with something more… well… attractive. Less heads for starters. No wonder no one wants you to rape them…" 

"Mooo!" bellowed the Bull's head.

"Take her to the lake of fire, baptize her there. I have a feeling she'll appreciate it." And so the lord was gone through the black clouds of poison and smog and out of sight in a spiraling flight.

*

_…"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters._ _And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light._ _God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness"._

He wasn't always the Lord of Demons. Once, he was the Lord of Light, but he only remembered it vaguely. For sure, his memory of it was slacking and lacking, yet he could still recall coming into being. One moment he was nothing, a big bawl of emptiness, a bubble of muddle- and then he was standing upright, fully awake with life pulsing in his veins, in this great space of benevolence and blinding light- and there were kind eyes bathing him in love and impossible adoration. He remembered sinking to his knees, dumbfounded by the prodigy. He remembered folding in half and crying, for he could not have contained such awe. He was but a babe, and he remembered hiding his face from him- from his father- with his massive wings. 

"Hello, Heylel, my first born." Said the voice, the gentlest of voices, the prettiest of voices, it lured him out of his winged shelter and he peeked outside gingerly, and saw a glowing orb, floating in mid-air and felt it smiling. 'Heylel', he had called him. That was his name, perhaps. –"Yes, I am your father." Said the voice kindly –"And I have given you the gift of absolute beauty, so there is no _reason_ to shy away now."

The man-boy retreated his wings. He remembered climbing up to his feet. They were strong feet, beautiful feet. And they were fit. Fit for walking and running and jumping and stealth (but he did not know that last bit then). He stared at them hypnotized for an eternity and wiggled his toes against the transparent plate he was standing on- underneath him and forever continuing were glimmering stars and rotating galaxies, exploding and imploding and hissing in the language of light. (for creation was only cooking then- he'd learnt later).

"Would you like to see yourself, Heylel?"

The boy nodded frightenedly, for he could not speak.

"There you are, my child." Said God and another plate appeared, but this one was held in front of him, and it was not transparent at all, although it sparkled and reflected the light. And inside that plate Heylel saw himself, and he was stricken by his own appearance for it was indeed sublime. A face so glorious it hurt to look upon, framed by luscious blonde locks that fell on broad shoulders. A body so well carved it was a miracle (although, thinking back- that primal body had no genitals, so one might argue that it wasn't perfect in _all_ ways) – and the best feature- its best feature were the six wings: two central ones for flying; two little ones above them and two bellow- for the mere purpose of showing off. 

Heylel wept once more- because, such is the manner of babies when they are first born. His father soothed him with many sweet promises. Promises of grandeur and splendor. Heylel was to become his companion and his right hand. Heylel was to be his keeper of secrets and his most faithful servant; his dearest, his most beloved and most loving. His one and only _son_.

And at first it was the utmost pristine of pleasures. His father spoiled him and cloyed him with all he had to offer: he gave him _strength_ so he could blow the galaxies away by exhaling from his nostrils. He gave him _stamina_ , so he should never need to rest; he gave him _speed_ , so he could be here and there and everywhere; he gave him _speech_ so that they could consult with one another; he gave him _sagacity_ , so that he will know how to use the words in the most ingenious way and how to solve the questions that were popping in his mind incessantly -

And-

And he gave him the _gift of light._ So that he was bright inside and out. Wherever he went, light followed and therefore there was not a dark particle in his entire being, and he had cast no shadow.

However, the magical honeymoon of their relationship, if you will, did not last forever, since nothing good or bad ever does. At one point his father had said –"Heylel, I am in a creative mood."

"Creative, father?" he gazed up at the almighty, as he was balancing three moons and turning them in his palm, playing.

"Yes. I wish to make more things." Came the voice from the giant orb of light –"All that you see here around us- these are merely the _blueprints_ of it. These are raw materials, my son. But the _urge_ has come to make them into more than that."

"More, father?" Heylel let the moons drop and spin away into space, leaving behind a wake of stardust –"Whatever more do you need?"

"Company." Answered God –"And something to watch, for entertainment, and something to _watch over_ , for love."

"I do not understand…" muttered Heylel, and a tiny fluttering feeling, completely unfamiliar- began skipping in his chest.

"Come with me, son. I shall show you." Promised the kind voice, and the giant orb began swimming slowly through the massive and hollow halls that were forming around them as Heylel followed, flying. They progressed within the maze of erecting walls until they reached a glowing gallery of yellowy arches and magnificent pillars – but the place was empty. Soundlessly Heylel landed on the decorated floor and gazed at his father, questioning.

"These are the forces that will assist you in fulfilling the missions I will send you on."

"What missions, father dearest?" wondered the boy.

"Adventures beyond imagination." His father had said –"You shall help me build a _universe_ and fill it with sentient beings, who will all worship me."

"Yes, Father." Heylel had said, filled with dread – because he did not know how to create things, let alone beings, let alone a universe! And his limbs were tingling for he was unprepared. Then again, his father spoke of other forces that will support him in his colossal task; but before he could open his mouth to inquire about these forces- his father's voice was booming and the air around them vibrated when he said:

**_"Michael."  
"Gabriel" _ **

**_"Raphael"_ **

**_"Metatron"_ **

**_"Raziel"_ **

**_"Sandalphon"_ **

**_"Uriel"_ **

**_"Remiel"_ **

With each new and foreign word Heylel felt a raw sensation seeping in his soul, before he knew for certain that these were _names_ and not simple words. And as he looked about him astonished, he could see their figures forming under every arch- and thus they were named later "The Archangels"- bodies beaming and heads surrounded by halos. And much like himself they had faces and arms and legs and wings (two each); and they were pretty, but none of them was as pretty as him. And they were intelligent, but not as he was. And much like himself they were full of holiness and might- but (to his relief) none of them possessed _The Gift of Light._

*


	2. The Bugging Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer is in a dark mood. He has a sexual encounter with Lilith and then meets her demon daughter for the first time.

_"Recollect me darling, raise me to your lips_ _  
Two undernourished egos, four rotating hips  
Hold on to me tightly, I'm a sliding scale  
Can't endure, then you can inhale clearly  
Out of body experience interferes  
And dreams of flying, I fit nearly  
Surrounds me, though I get lonely slowly_ **_…" ["Inertia Creeps", Massive Attack]_ **

The way back always seemed shorter, or perhaps it was _actually_ shorter- who knew? Hell worked in mysterious ways. The Lord of Demons folded his leather wings as he re-entered his castle and grunted with disgust when he needed to step on and squash a few grimy Wendigo cocoons that infested the ground floor in his absence. "Nasty buggers!" he exclaimed –"This is _my_ house. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have a place to stay altogether- so leave your business outside these walls! "

"You should hire a watchdog." Came her voice from upstairs, flowing like molasses and just as thick and as sticky. He raised his head to find her leaning against the banister of human bones in a typical seductive posture –"To guard your house." Her abundant cleavage was winking at him invitingly.

"The house is just an idea, a metaphor. You know that." He squinted his eyes as he made his way upstairs, not wanting to deal with her at the moment, at _any_ moment, to be exact.

"My dearest Lucifer." Said she –"Your nerves are so _knotty_ , why don't we-"

"THAT!" he pointed at the gigantic dragonfly that was eating his carpet as it flickered its wings joyously –"What is _that_ doing in the house!?"

"What?" Lilith pouted innocently –"That's just Annabelle, she's harmless! I had to use some means of transpo-"

"OUT!" he hollered –"Right now, Lily! I mean it!"

"Oh, boo-hoo! Fine." The demoness took the creature by the reigns and guided her to the window, making sure to twerk her haunches from side to side in the obscenest of ways as she walked, then encouraged the monster-bug to fly out the window. The big wings made a horrible noise as the insect went airborne, and an even worse racket as it took the window frame with it on the way out.

"In the name of God!"

"In the name of _God_?" Lilith giggled viciously –"Really?" and then she approached him- a slow steady pace of fire and curves in what was a lame excuse for a dress- all see-through and tightness – "What's on your wicked mind, my precious?" she cooed –"You're so uptight and… nervous-" her long tongue was sent out to lap at his earlobe, and he shuddered against his will. She always had this power over him.

"What is your will, Lilith?" he inquired warily, but then his dick was already sliding out of its den and pointing decisively at her direction.

"Awww, husband." Crooned the elven lady –"Does a wife truly need a reason to come by?"

"Yes, yes, she does." Said he –"I have got… things to do."

"Things… to do…" her long fingernails were scratching down his chest –"I am sure they can wait, until we do… other things." She walked him backwards to his bed triumphantly and pushed him on his back unto the crimson sheets. There, in the lights of the ever-burning bonfires from outside she gracefully climbed to his lap with open legs and peered down at him –"Why the face, Luficer?" her sing-song voice crawled into his ears as she rubbed herself against his cock- as wet and hot as ever. He moaned quietly before answering –"There was a girl, at work today…" he muttered as Lilith descended on his dick and wrapped her cunt around him.

"Ah… girl?" she cocked her head sideways –"A pretty one?"

"Not at all," he said, putting his hands on her hips to guide her movements –"She was tattered, and broken… begged me to rape her…"

"Ooooh, interesting!" said she, rocking back and forth on his cock, then up and down with the skill of an expert. Like she was. He looked up to find her eyes- blue as starlight –"No, Lily." He said with an effort –"It wasn't interesting. In fact, it was boring."

"Oh, my little lord needs more excitement?" she accelerated her movements, squeezing him efficiently with her inner muscles, her breasts bouncing out of her dress as she rolled her hips and found a hard steady pace to work him with; but his mind was faraway. He only participated in the act, contributing absolutely nothing as she fucked him into the bed and chattered as she would always.

"I could hang you on a hook." She suggested cutely–"Burn your nipples?"

Lucifer groaned as she shifted on top of him to lie against his naked chest, pressing her luscious breasts to his skin. She deepened her motions as she mumbled more inventive ideas into the shell of his ear: "A full body massage on a bed of nails? You came really hard that time… hmm… I could go down on you with my mouth full of needles. Or better yet! I could fuck you with something large and prickly. Lets say… a horse brush. That should be painful enough and not the very least boring."

"Silly Lily," Lucifer chuckled despite himself and rested one hand on her back, feeling it swaying in little waves with her body –"This isn't about sex."

"Isn't it? Because you're so stiff inside me, it feels like a metal bar."

"Not as cold, I hope." He muttered brokenly as he drained into her- without a glimpse of pleasure – but one time was never enough with his demoness wife. She slid over and took his dick in her mouth, her voice muffled –"Wussit about, then?"

"This place." He said and stretched his arms, crossing them under his head as he stared at the ceiling that was glazed with black shards of volcanic glass; getting familiar and comfortable –"I have come to comprehend that I am sick of it."

"Sick of it?" Lily's metallic laughter buzzed around his cock- she had to take a hiatus- "Does a turtle ever get tired of its shell? This is your place, Lucy. Your mancave. Your world."

"No, it is _his_ creation, his cave. _His_ _idea_."

"Gosh, don't your daddy issues ever get old, husband? Why can't you just enjoy it." she said, not expecting a reply- then dove down to resume her aggressive blowjob –"And where would such thoughts take you, anyhow. It's not like you could leave…" The tug on his dick was firm and crisp and he moaned despite himself, feeling nothing.

"Was thinking of… I had this idea-" the pull was growing harder, increment by increment, the suction stretching him and dragging his sperm from its root, as soon as it came into being- "Ahh, Lily! What is it that you _want_?" he said with marvel in his voice. She was known to be bellicose, he had liked that about her- but unless she was going for ripping off his dick, there was definitely no _reason_ -

"I need to ask you a favor." She admitted, batting her lashes.

"Of course you do." Lou rolled his eyes and placed a pillow, silky and black, under his head –"Well?"

"Well…" said Lilith –"You're still not in the right mood for it. You'd just kick me out."

"So you intend to fuck me into stupidity? That it?"

"That's the plan." Replied the demoness and wrapped her fingers around his dick, still wet with saliva, and began stroking it from base to cap, focusing hard- but while his dick was responding to the touch, his mind was clear and curious- but only intellectually.

"You know that to be impossible." He said.

"Wouldn't you like to… do you not ever-" she started, wondering, as if she did not know him.

"No. I do not. Ever. Now get to the point. You're welcome to keep on the handjob if it grants you joy."

Lilith frowned and let her hand drop –"What sort of demon does not enjoy sex?"

"Oh, I enjoy it." Replied Lucifer –"But I cannot lose myself in it. One of my father's gifts, you see. Now, what is your plea?"

"I…" Lilith seemed tired all of a sudden, pushing her round breasts together to fit them back into the gown. –"I have this daughter."

"You've got thousands." Commented the disinterested husband –"The result of fucking anyone you meet, basically."

"That is _harsh_ , Lucy." Said she –"You really are cranky today, aren't you? Anyways, she is wild."

"They're all wild." Puffed Lucifer, gazing at her with contempt –"As wild as their mother."

"She is wild-er."

"How is she wild?"

"She disrupts my kingdom."

"Your kingdom, wife-" said Lucifer with indifference –"is chaos upon chaos, seasoned with mayhem and dipped in disorder, scrambled in a big black hole. What is there to disrupt?"

"She _disobeys_ me." Spat Lily, angry.

"Daughters tend to do that."

"Lucifer!"

"What?"

"You're not listening!"

"Oh, I am listening, but all I hear is complete jabber." His dick was retreating back into its sheath like a cat's claw, once again hidden and irrelevant, and he had sat up in bed –"You are discontent with one of your daughters, and you want to get rid of her by dumping her here, on my turf, so that you wouldn't have to deal with her… adolescence, I'm guessing."

"You make me sound like an evil bitch."

"Lily, I do not know how to break it to you exactly- but you are an evil bitch."

"I _need_ you to take her off my hands. Seriously, why do you care? I mean, just toss her into one of the cells and forget about her, so that I could do the same."

"Unacceptable, unnegotiable, unnecessary. Won't happen."

"Lucifer, PLEASE."

"Nope, no, no no. I will not take responsibility for your mistakes, Lily. Terribly sorry." He had gotten out of bed, agitated now, and stepped towards the nightstand to fix himself a drink. It was all for show, really. The dark gooey liquid was poured from the fancy bottle into the fancy glass, but drinks in Hell did not get you drunk. They would make you sick, if you were lucky, and they tasted like piss. Nevertheless, he tilted the glass into his mouth and gulped its entire content, wincing as it burnt its way down his throat and stung his stomach.

"You don't need to be responsible-"

"How else would you call keeping her?"

"Storage?"

"Seriously, Lily." Lucifer shook his head and placed down the glass –"For how long?"

*

She was carried in through the desert on a horse with no name. It was a skeletal horse, large and limping, matted and ugly, and it smelled. Lucifer's Maggot recoiled as the two beasts stood face to face, and the skeletal horse puked something acid, that burnt the ground it was standing on. Then- the daughter of Lilith was thrown to the ground by the guard who delivered her. She, too, smelled. Some of Lilith's daughters were as hideous as monsters- with rotting teeth and tentacles and rashes, dragging their spilling guts behind them. Some were temptresses, designed to lure, as gorgeous as the moon bathing in twilight- for Lilith was a reckless tart and she fucked whoever came in her path.

This daughter, however, was neither. She was covered in soot and rags, and her face was inflated, for she had been beaten cruelly. You could not figure out her features. Her head was hooded and lowered- she lay where she fell and did not move or make a sound.

"Lilith would have killed her if you hadn't taken her in." said the sentry demon.

"So I've heard." Replied Lucifer and nodded –"You can go now. Tell my wife that the business is sorted. She needn't worry about the girl no longer."

"Yes, sire." Said the sentry and turned his horrible horse to leave.

"Oh. And also-" Lucifer added –"Tell your mistress that she is no longer welcome in my kingdom. If she fails to follow my request, there shall be war between her army and mine."

"Sire?" The sentry seemed awfully confused –"But she is your _wife_."

"You heard me right." Confirmed the lord –"Our marriage is obsolete as of now. You tell her that. Good day to you. And do take care of that mount. It smells like shit. Goodbye."

"But, Sire-"

"One more word and you will take a swim in the pit of boiling blood, floating alongside your own ribs."

The sentry turned the horse and left, galloping manically. For a while Lucifer was watching him disappear in the cloud of dust, for a while he daydreamed, before remembering the girl that was still lying on the ground like a sack of useless bones.

"Get up." He said harshly –"You will march in the footsteps of my horse."

Slowly, achingly, the girl got to her feet. She did not speak, she did not look at him. When she stood, her frame was wobbling, unstable. Nevertheless, Lucifer hummed and then got Maggot to pace slowly, slowly towards his crooked tower. His unwelcoming home. The girl followed obediently and quietly. The soles of her bare feet burnt by the sand and the desert heat.

It took years, perhaps ages. He had to stop every once in a while, for she had collapsed. He would wait patiently on his horse, watching her closely until she regained her senses. It was impossible to die in Hell. It was merely exhaustion that deterred her progress and Lucifer had all the time in the world, he had all the time in the universe. He did not mind the waiting.

When they finally reached the tower, the girl fainted on the doorstep. He left her there and took Maggot to the stables, where he fed and washed him for about an hour. When he came back she was still lying unconscious near the front door. The bugs already started crawling all over her and infesting in her hair.

"You, up." He said and slapped her on her cheek, chasing off the bugs. Two morbid eyes glanced at him for a fleeting moment, and then she was up again. Like a puppet, like a robot. He found himself wondering what was she about. This was highly unusual indeed. And curious. Lily had mentioned that the girl was dangerous and a hassle, and here, she was following his every order, even when he rose her back from the dead time and again, and has shown her no mercy.

"Bathroom." He said, grabbing her by her hood and leading her inside, directing her to the guest bathroom. –"I would have locked you up in the caves, but they are all taken. Hell is on full capacity, so you shall have to stay with me. This house, I was told, needs a guard and a maid, to keep away the pests you see? Unfortunately, I have this thing about cleanliness. So wash yourself." He shoved her into the bathroom, wincing because of her smell –"When you are done, come see me in the lounge."

She said nothing, he went into the lounge and settled in a couch, picking up a book- but he could not concentrate whatsoever. His job was so demanding. His duties were endless. And now… this girl. Stupid Lilith and her stupid shenanigans. He was sick of it. He was sick of everything. He just wanted to quit.

After some twenty minutes the girl reemerged in a black bathrobe, her straight dark-blue hair covering her bruised face and dripping on the fur carpet. Lucifer frowned and tossed the book aside –"Get naked." He said. The girl obeyed silently, taking off the robe in one dexterous motion and letting it drop to her feet. Her head was bowed, chin touching to her neck. She acted like a zombie, but her body was a jaunty sight for sore eyes: the colour of mahogany, tight and small and athletic, with perky breasts and a flat stomach, her thighs wide and solid and strong, her arms slender and silky. No, not gorgeous, but definitely unique and breathtaking. No wonder Lilith was scared of her.

"How fast are you?" asked the Lord. The question seemed to have taken her by surprise, for she had blinked behind the drapes of her hair and her bruised lips twitched minutely. Then she shook off the surprise and straightened her spine.

"As quick as the weasel, Sire; as swift as the eagle." For the first time he had heard her voice- deep and low, rugged and rough, like a boy's.

"Very good." He said, curious about her. The obedience was the most puzzling element. Yes, he was used to folk groveling at his feet ever since he became, yet he did not expect such behavior from the daughter of Lilith the Rebel. In fact, while awaiting her arrival, he already prepared his vicious chains and whips, his tools of torture- to battle her into submission- all seemed now redundant. She was both wild and housebroken, at the same time. The Demon Lord pushed himself out of his chair and walked over to her. He stopped a couple of feet away. She didn't smell anymore, but he could sense her natural body odor- somewhat resembling ginger, with a tinge of earth. Interesting.

"Who fathered you, girl?"

"The demon Ophur of the Serpent-Chain, Sire. Mother and him…"

"Yes?" encouraged Lucifer.

"Were lovers. For a while."

"Why do you hesitate to tell me such a truth?" he asked, his voice hard. Harder than he had intended.

"Because she was your wife, at the time." Answered the girl, her rough voice like a bark. Like sandpaper.

"Ah." Lucifer chuckled despite himself –"Your mother is a slut… and so am I. We did not practice jealously during our tiresome relationship. And yet… it had dissolved. Finally." The tone of relief was sneaking into his speech. He had to be more careful. Much more careful. The girl might just be a ticking bomb, a trojan horse sent by his ex-wife to ruin him. He had considered that option, it seemed relevant and legit.

"I simply worry-"

"Then don't." Lucifer cut her off. Her head was still bowed, and she was so responsive to his voice it nearly tempted him, but he wasn't gullible and he wasn't easily swooned.

"What is your weapon of choice?" he asked, staring down at her swollen face.

"Knives, sire."

"Where did you gain such good manners, girl?"

"At my father's palace." Said she, then her nose started bleeding, a sad slow trickle, crawling towards her upper lip. The Lord raised one black eyebrow –"Is that terror I see in you?"

"Y… Yes, Sire." She managed with an effort. Not even trying to lie. Once again, this was a precedent, a marvel, something to investigate.

"Get dressed." He said –"It gets awfully cold around here at night."

"But…" she hesitated –"Are you not going to-"

"Fuck you?" he threw that into the air, bluntly, enjoying her expression –"No. I was going to break you, but you already seem shattered to me, which I do not fancy. What did they do to you?"

"Beat me up." Said she, bending over to reach for the bathrobe and placing it back on her shoulders, squirming into the sleeves.

"Why?"

"I don't know." She said. Lucifer frowned deeply. Up until now she was going by the book, and now this. A solid lie. An attempt to withhold information from him. He was already starting to think it would be a joyride, but apparently there was something beneath the surface, and it smelled fishy. He swirled on his hills and slapped her sharply on her swollen cheek. She shrieked and hunched, and he slapped her again, even harder. –"There is no one to protect you here." He said as she dropped to her knees, the robe opening and showing her naked body once more –"and patience is not the finest of my traits." Looking down at her, he almost hated himself for being the villain, yet knowing it was customary, even desired. Hell rewarded him whenever he let himself be loose like that, with a rush of adrenaline and arousal. 

"You do know." He said, his voice crooked and cold –"now tell me before I make this night the worst you've ever had."

"I am sorry, Sire, I am sorry."

"Sorry will not do. Try telling me what happened and perhaps I will spare you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is dark stuff, but I woz sorta aiming for that- so!


	3. If it's ever Dark and Dreary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maz spends her first night-of-horror at Lucifer's and Death makes her first appearance.

_"It's cloudy in the west, it looks like rain  
My eyes are black holes and I'm burning away_

_You slaughtered your loving man, killed him in his sleep  
The blood and crying of your murder simply stains the sheets_

_Now, you're a ghost on the highway  
Your gesture is meaningless  
You're lost to the living men  
Trailing souls to the end" ['Ghost on the Highway', The Gun Club] _

"I was good at what I did." She said, to his surprise, she was not sobbing. Only the nosebleed kept on going –"I was the best, in battle. And some of the other demons... many of them. They said I should become a commander. They said they would only follow me into the battlefield, then mother got mad. You can guess the rest of it."

He ducked to pull her on her feet by the edge of the garment –"I'm not in a guessing mood."

There was a moment of silence, then she raised her pointy chin and stared right back at him with one glinting eye. The other was covered by her hair –"I have raised an army." – then the glinting eye closed, waiting for the third slap that never arrived.

"Go on." Said Lucifer in a voice that was hardly louder than whisper, and he was licking his lips, fascinated, because it all sounded tragically relatable. Because raising an army was the beginning of his demise, yet remained the most exciting experience of his existence.

"We were planning to rebel, to go against mother's armies; so I could obtain my rank fairly. They caught me before any of it transpired- and here I am. At your disposal."

Lucifer hummed and let go of the robe–"Very well. If you hide anything from me again, I will kill you a thousand times."

"I am sorry, Sire."

"No, you are not." Said Lucifer, suddenly seeing the whole picture –"You enjoy the pain, and the danger. That is what makes you a great warrior. You want me to give you pain, and I shall, but perhaps not in the way that you had in mind."

"I didn't have anything in mind when I was brought here, my lord." Said the demoness child, head down.

"Right." Replied Lucifer, his tone strained –"You can be either obedient or rebellious, but being one and pretending to be the other would not do. No matter." He added, as if to himself, -"Perhaps time will be the best teacher. Now, walk with me." He began to pace, spreading his gigantic wings and noting how her expression changed when she saw their full size. Her swollen cheek twitched and her bruised eye blinked. There was no way to tell if she was frightened or merely impressed.

However things were, the Demon Lord stepped into the hallway and expected her to follow. She did, quietly. Her little footsteps barely audible.

"So you are good at stealth too?" said he.

"Yes, my lord."

"That may come in handy." He blurted, then stopped in front of a plain black door, pushing it slightly with his knee until it opened, creaking.

"This is your room." He said.

"My… my Lord…" she stuttered with a swollen lip, drooling all over her chin.

"What is it?"

"Am I not to stay with you? To warm your bed?"

Lucifer almost burst into laughter, but held back, and the potential burst turned into a vicious snicker –"To warm… my bed?"

"Well… yes. I mean-"

"Enough of these jokes. Are you speaking for my ex-wife?" he did not wait for an answer –"I do not need a warm body in my bed. I do not need one at my feet, and I do not require company. In fact, you are nothing but a nuisance at this stage. You can clean the house, if you're up for it. If not, you could stay in the wyvern cave and have it devour your guts twice a day. Your call, sweetheart. Good night to you." And he pushed her into the small room and shut the black door on her. She was alone.

*

Although their father supposedly created them perfect, and although they were his brothers in wings, and arms, and everything else- it was clear that he stood out, and it was somewhere between the lines, that the other angels were jealous. They called him 'Lucifer'- which meant "The Light bearer" – it was a nickname and an insult and a fact and a title; to differentiate him, to isolate and distance him from them. And although he was the first to come to existence, most of them treated him as if he were inferior if not uninteresting, and they preferred to keep away.

"Michael." He approached the other angel one time, as he was hovering lazily and leafing through a book of empty pages.

"What is it, brother?" Michael hoisted his gaze from his book and had to protect his static face from the glow Lucifer was emitting with a palm to his brow.

"I wonder." mused Lucifer and began pacing back and forth in the majestic hall –"What exactly are we making? I made a ball to our father's request, and covered it with searing fire, rivers of liquid iron and molten rocks- it smells absolutely terrible."

"Yes." Agreed Michael and sighed deeply –"You've made the default option."

"Excuse me?" asked Lucifer, perplexed –"Whatever do you mean, brother dear?"

"In case the new children should fall." Explained Michael, but his explanation was not an explanation at all, and the ambiguity of it left Lucifer discontented.

"The new children?" he blinked –"He is making new children? What is wrong with having us?"

"There is nothing wrong with us." Michael rolled his eyes –"Our father's love is infinite, and he likes to _experiment_. So, he's making a new species now. But before he does, he needs to make a nursery for them, somewhere nice to stay. That is why Uriel made the garden-"

"Uriel made a garden?!" Lucifer's chest was beginning to heat up –"Then how come I only got to make a ball of fire??" he cried.

"Do not dismiss that ball of fire!" chided his brother –"It is of great importance, although you may not see it now, Lucifer Light-Bringer."

"Well, alright." Huffed Lucifer –"Can I have a look at that garden? Pretty please?"

"Yes, of course you may." Said Michael kindly and waved his hand at the transparent wall of the hall- then, to Lucifer's amazement he could view the most perfect and tempting of gardens: rows of thick and luscious trees bearing a colourful plenty, fruited and glinting in the dew; flowers as big as stars vibrating to an invisible gust, opening and closing- inviting swift butterflies to touch their fuzzy center. He saw tentacles and tendrils hugging the trunks and branches, intertwining and connecting with each other. He saw flying feathered creatures that danced and chirped and sang enticing melodies. He saw a four legged beast, shining like a nova and shaking its big head that had a horn lodged right in the middle, and it was sparkling.

Lucifer gasped at this beauty –"Who shall inhabit this place?"

"The new children. I already said."

"But why not us?" Lucifer pressed on.

"Because." Replied Michael –"We have no need for toys to keep us entertained, flashy things and all these… decorations. We have our minds to engage us, which is much more than they will ever know."

"Are you saying they are mindless?" inquired Lucifer.

"In a sense."

"As in stupid?"

"As in innocent."

"What is innocent?"

"Untouched. Not to be interfered with. That is why he is locking them in this garden- but it's all just a theory. He will start with one, perhaps there shall be more later."

"So this is… to be their home?" Lucifer muttered bitterly, glued to the transparent surface.

"Indeed." Replied Michael –"If they are worthy of it."

"What do you mean by worthy?"

"Well." Michael slammed his book shut and made the apparition disappear –"You know our father… always testing us."

"Hmm…" Lucifer did not want to share his thoughts about his own trials and temptations with Michael. Did not want to tell him about the strange new things that were evoked in him lately. Ever since the "creative mood" had seized their father. In particular, a weird and not unpleasant sensation spiraling down his lower stomach. It was elating… infecting… inflating-

"What… what sort of test will it be?"

"In this case," continued Michael –"I hear it's a _tree_."

*

He never asked for her name.

Mazikeen really thought her mother, Lily, was the worst, but perhaps she was wrong. Getting away from her mother's claws seemed like a dream come true. She was willing to do anything. When she heard they were sending her to Hell, to serve under Lucifer, she prepared herself. He was the demon master. He was handsome and authoritative. She thought… she really thought it would be about sex or war, or both. Well.

Well.

Obviously it wasn't.

Prior to her departure of her home, she bathed in the Lake of Mercury until her body was shiny and sparkling. Then she chose her weapon- a sharp and handsome dagger carved from a dragon's tooth. She chose her best clothes for the transfer- a light crimson armour sewn from the scales of the soaring silky snake of the mystical valleys. She was so thrilled to think of the new life awaiting her in the kingdom of Lucifer.

Mazikeen never made it to the gate. Before she even got to the path that lead to it, everyone was at her. Demons of the Lilim and previously loyal brothers and sisters- all tore her armour away, violently. They took it off scale by scale, until she was naked. They had stripped her off her satchel and her weapon, then began beating her and bashing, scratching and clawing and punching her face mercilessly. At first, she was too dumbstruck to fight back, but once a demon as big as an elephant headbutted her belly and caused her to flip over and hit the ground at a dangerous angle, she knew this was no drill. No frolic, not the friendly exhaust of steam she thought it was in the beginning. No. they were going to murder her before they'd let her leave; although she had been banished in the first place.

It was Lily who came to her rescue. Suddenly, when her face was already half-sunk in the dirt and her head was pounding. Her eyes so sore and obscured by swells that she could not even see, Lily's voice rose above the barbaric growls, commanding: "Leave her. She's had enough." And then she was pulled upwards by her hair and wrapped in a stinking linen robe. Black and itchy and not at all becoming. She was placed on a skeletal horse, in front of a servant. Her head was swaying from side to side and her sight blurry. Too tired to offer resistance or even think, she could only take in the last words her mother had blessed her with: "Farewell, my squalid child. May your path be filled with dread and agony, your existence pitiful; and may you wade in loneliness and terror. I have made you faulty. Faulty enough to betray me. May you be forever incomplete." And with that, Lilith threw a swat across the horse's rear and the beast darted forward like lightening, the jolt sending Mazikeen backwards to bump into the driver that pushed her away from him –"Don't touch me, you anathema!"

And now the Lord _hated_ her as well. The mighty and beautiful Lord that she had come here to serve, willingly. How stupid and naïve of her, to think that he could not see through her childish efforts to please him, to think that arriving at this new place would mean a new beginning. She was carrying her past with her. Her mother named her Mazikeen, which stood for 'damage' in the holy language. Damage was her essence, damage was her purpose. She was indeed flawed, damaged and damned, and there was no point in hiding it with keen subservience.

Mazikeen looked about her- the room had no windows. It was small and uninviting. The bed was a dark wooden bench without covers. The sole source of light was a fat candle of black wax, surrounded by big yellow-bellied wasps that hovered and fluttered about it, occasionally burning their wings and buzzing away angrily, colliding into the stained walls- then going back to their deadly ritual. Round and round as in dance.

She took a seat on the bench and palmed her chin for a mere second- it hurt badly. Frowning, she clambered unto the bench and lay on the side that was hurting less. With her eyes closed, she waited in the dark room for sleep to engulf her- but the restless wasps kept on dropping on her head and her shoulders and clumsily crawling towards her hair. Sometimes they stung as well. It was not long before Maz was up on her feet again, with fire in her eyes. She picked up the candle and stood still in the middle of the room, lurking. Whenever a wasp landed, wherever it landed- dazed and confused – Maz was there to tilt the candle and drown it in hot wax, deaf and dumb to the smell of burn and the growing drone that triggered the still living wasps to target her. In addition, more and more wasps kept coming out of nowhere, but she stood her ground. Sleeping was out of the question, she might as well fight because fighting was what defines her- until her Master arrives.

*

The crooked and strident sound of a trumpet awoke him from his horrible sleep. The sleep of the tormented which guided all the night-mares galloping into his mind. The dreams in which he saw a black hole sending planets to their annihilation with a succulent kiss of doom. Then, he was stretched on a splint with arms and legs brushing against the four edges of the universe, and a giant spear, shaped like the jagged leg of a bug split him in half right through the heart. He woke in a puddle of sweat and groaned as he held his head in his hands.

"What is that _noise_ again?!"

Determined to kill anything or anyone he encountered on the way Lucifer flew out of his bed like a cannonball and shot through the broken window, landing on the ground just outside his castle, next to a decomposing carcass of a mammoth- which got there God knows how.

"Answer your KING!" he bellowed –"Or hold this ruction this instant!"

A tiny black dot appeared in the distance and grew bigger by the second. It was Azazel, and he was running. Lucifer recognized him as soon as he was able to spot his big horns and his unmistakable limp. The demon was swaying from side to side as he hurried towards his master, dragging his battered wings behind him. The state of them was quite poor, and they oozed puss out of burning sores. _Why do all my servants suffer from stupidity?_ He did not mind the gore or ugliness, it was _the lack of style_ that drove him mad; and Azazel was indeed a sorry example of the widespread phenomenon, with his mismatched fangs and his dandling dick and his disastrous goat head. (once again, this was a demon whose job was to seduce young maidens. Bahh).

"A thousand apologies, Your Baseness-"

"Your apologies would hardly suffice to cure my ringing ears!" spat the Lord –"Now, who raised the alarm, and more importantly- **_Why_**."

"There was a breach, Your Awfulness, at the gates!"

"The gates! Again!" Lucifer punched the demon, knocking a couple of loose fangs out. The demon moaned and cried, hunching himself in front of his lord and kissing his naked feet with a bloody mouth- much to Lucifer's disgust.

"What, I wonder, is the purpose of guards if they cannot keep it barred!?"

"My lord, Lady Death is approaching." Azazel mewled –"She'd made us all bend the knee, then she just went through… we had no choice, Your Foulness, we let her in…"

"You let. Her. In." repeated Lucifer and kicked Azazel in the jaw. The demon made a flip and landed on his buttocks, begging for something – whatever it was it did not matter, because the lord could not mutilate him, nor take his miserable life – "Into my kingdom, my realm. Without asking me."

"She was persistent, Your Heinousness, and… and _swift_."

"Swift? Is she mounted?"

"Yes, Your Delusiveness, she's driving a 1969 Cadillac"

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Lucifer kicked the demon in the sack this time round –"You useless piece of groveling mucus- you make me _sick_!"

"Yes, Your Horridness, I am sorry Your Evilness, I take the blame, I take the blame!" cried the demon, writhing in the dirt –"Throw me into the abyss! Roll me into the canyon! Break all my bones!"

"Seriously?" sneered Lucifer –"It happened a long time ago. Go and see, there's an abyss named after you, you idiot. That's where they get rid of all unnecessary beings. Out of my way!"

"Yes, Sire."

The Lord put his two fingers to his mouth and whistled hard. If Death was coming, he had to make an impression. A good impression, for she was too, the daughter of God. The black winged horse responded to his call- he had a massive silky mane that was dragging on the ground when he trotted, two feverish red glowing eyes, a forked tongue and the breath of poison- for unlike his servants- Lucifer preferred to travel in style.

"Come here, Maggot!" he ordered the beast and the horse neighed- which sounded more like a banshee shriek- and stood in front of him.

"Good boy!"

Lucifer jumped on the horse's back and guided him forwards –"We're off to greet Death." He said, petting the beast's head –"Make me look good."

Maggot reared and began galloping in the direction tumult. All thoughts of the elven girl that was still locked in his tower have disappeared from Lucifer's mind.

*

They met on the path that was leading to his castle, somewhere in the middle of the way. He could see the car speeding and roaring within a cloud of dust, and a trail of mangy hyenas following. Two vultures were circling in the red skies above. Lucifer brought Maggot to a halt and waited, agitated. His skin was crawling and his heart booming- he hasn't seen one of the endless in ages. And she… she was a respectable guest indeed. _But why has she come?_

Lucifer twirled the horse around a couple of times until the car stopped with a screech of tires, sending yet another burst of dry earth into the air- then the door opened, and she slipped out of the driver's seat.

Pretty.

She was always a very pretty lady. The idea of death coming to collect their souls in the form of a gorgeous, kind, and gentle female was indeed, striking. But it was also only their father's kinky sense of humour. He knew that her job wasn't easy. In fact, it was terrible, and very lonely.

"Hiya, Lou!" said she, a friendly expression on her childish face as she approached him with a typical smile. _Death was always smiling._

"Greetings." Said he.

"Care to get off that high horse for me? It strains my neck to look at you."

"Fine." Lucifer grunted and slid off Maggot, then, to his horror, he realized that they were awfully close and retreated. The horse backed away with him.

"We can forgo the kisses and 'how-are-yous', right? I don't have much time."

The last time he had seen her was around the Middle-Ages. She was different then. Death always liked to follow fashions, and this time she was wearing her hair straight with a fringe on the forehead, packed in tight skinny jeans and a black tank top- looking just like any random girl from Earth- except she wasn't.

"What are you doing here?" he inquired, measuring her up and down and suddenly aware of his nakedness. He used his powers to conjure a pair of brown leather trousers, to hide his privates, in case his dick chose to poke out of its enclosure.

"Relax, Lou," she chuckled wholeheartedly at his unease –"I'm only here to escort this young man. He wouldn't go through the gates by himself, ya see? Woz way too afraid."

"Whatever." Blurted Lucifer.

"C'mon boy!" she coaxed, leaning towards the backseat of the car –"Come on out, it's alright!".

She never said anything like 'no one will harm you' to the boy, because that would have been cruel, and Death was not cruel. She was trustworthy and truthful. Many things in Hell were waiting in the darkness for said boy, to gnaw him, to chew him, to spit him out and to destroy him in any way imaginable. This was not a trip to the mountains for this boy… whoever he was.

However, when she used the word 'boy' Lucifer thought it a form of endearment- something to mitigate the dreadful ordeal of passing on and ending up in Hell- of all places. But for all the horrors he had seen, he did not expect… well. He did not expect _that_ and his eyes blinked anxiously as his mouth opened and closed of its own volition a couple of times.

Death's white hand was resting upon the fragile shoulder of a young boy of ten, a _child_. A beautiful child. A kid! He had a babyface and the most haunting, dreamy pale-blue eyes. The colour of the heaven's skies above the Silver-City, if he remembered it correctly. Oh, the inmates of Hell would devour him certainly, they would feast on his taintless body and suck on his soul until he perishes in agony; then they will revive him and kill him once more… This was no place for children.

The lord's jaw gaped soundlessly as Death got to her knees in front of the kid and took his hands in hers –"You've made it, Darren!" she praised him –"Good job! Now, listen up. I cannot go any further with you into this place. I am not welcome here, and I do not belong within these boundaries. But you _do_."

Lucifer swallowed, overwhelmed.

"This is uncle Lou," she gestured towards Satan –"He'll take care of you. Alright? Just walk straight ahead, follow the path until you reach a large stone sticking from the sand. Sit there and wait for instructions. This is your _home_ from now on." And with that she kissed the boy on his forehead and released him. Clearly hypnotized and shocked, the boy – wide eyed- walked on and followed the path like he was told to. But then Lucifer came to his senses. "No!" he called out –"Stop right there, it isn't safe!"

"Safe?" Death chuckled, surprised.

"Yes, safe." Replied Lucifer irritably and went to retrieve the child –"Come here, boy!" he took the kid by his waist and flung him over the horse's back, placing the reigns in his hands –"Just hold on. The horse knows where to go. I will see you soon, okay?"

"Yes, Sir." Replied the kid meekly.

Once he was out of the scene, Death rose again and wiped her palms on her trousers –"All done." She said cheerfully –"I'll get out of your hair now. Thanks for your patience… oh, and it's refreshing to see you've developed a conscience."

"WAIT!" Lucifer cried out and despite himself caught her by her wrist –"You can't just leave him here! He's a boy! They'll rip him to pieces!"

"Well, isn't that the _idea_?" she offered and blinked at him –"I don't call the shots around here, Mister sympathetic. Father does."

"But…" Lucifer was beside himself –"What has he _done_?!"

"Murdered his parents." Replied Death indifferently –"Would have finished his baby sister too, unless the police got there in time to save her. She doesn't have any fingers left, tho." She added and pulled her wrist out of his hold –"She's 4. I gotta go-"

"No, hold on!" Lucifer ran after her –"For crying-out-loud, I need an explanation!"

"C'mon." said Death –"Doncha know why there is evil in the universe? Weren't you the one to unleash it?"

"My name was stained." He insisted –"I merely asked the wrong questions."

"Really." Death turned around and crossed her arms under her chest –"Or did you enjoy it a little? Maybe? The title of the rebel child? The mysterious glory that came with it? The one to defy God himself. C'mon, Lou. You just had to be the star of the show. There woz lots of fun entailed, Lucifer. Why are you being bleak?"

"I most certainly did not enjoy it." Lucifer waved his wings, disturbing the dust again, but Death only blew it like she would a kiss.

"C'mon little prince. You've deflowered EVE. His most precious daughter. Everyone knows it… you mean to tell me it wozn't fun?"

"Who told you that? You didn't even exist when they fell!" the Lord blushed deeply.

"A hummingbird hummed it to me in my slumber." Joked Death –"Or did you think his creatures dimwitted? Because _everyone_ saw you that day. Including God himself. It woz like the best reality show ever!"

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to work on character building to get the story rolling, so this is mostly it on this one. More action in the next ones.


	4. Feels like Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer tortures Mazikeen, and at the same time is tortured by his own ghosts.

_"Heaven is closer now today  
The sound is in my ears  
I can't believe the things you say  
They echo what I fear_

_Twisting the bones until they snap  
I scream but no one knows  
You say I'm familiar, cold to touch  
And then you turn and go." [ **'Feels like Heaven', Fiction Factory]** _

Yes, it was true. Death had pinpointed it; but there was still some more telling to do with this ancient story, for time and humans twisted it beyond recognition.

It was true that Heylel was jealous when he first saw ADAM created. Father called him "Man" and "Human" with loads of affection and rained his gifts upon him: the gift of beauty and the gift of speech and the gift of _song_ and the gift of curiosity and the gift of heart and the gift of soul. The new being, the new child resembled the Angels and his figure was small, like a miniature compared to their size. He had no wings, but between his legs was a novelty- a new thing that seemed like a redundant piece of flesh and was dangling there, but sometimes it stood for no apparent reason and the new being stared at it with awe, and sometimes he would rub it against trees and leaves and fondled it secretly. Although nothing was a secret in Heaven.

Then one time Adam said "My God, I am lonely."

And then all the angels bowed their heads and they said "Let us come to comfort him in his solitude, for he is one and only in the Garden, and no beast could keep him company" (for Adam had tried engaging with the many animals around him, and it was a pathetic sight to behold for they did not reply when he spoke and they walked away when he embraced them).

"No." replied their father –"I will make him a mate suitable, that will answer his requests and desires." And out of fire and air and water and whispers and pieces of the night God had made Lilith- a ravishing creature with a perky smirk and seductive eyes, with a sharp tongue and the body of fantastic new features- round at the bottom and carrying two apple shaped… well, breasts (but he had not known they were called that back then); and between her legs there was a hidden cave of wonders, a fizzling fountain. A rabbit hole. He fell so immediately in love he felt as though he was on fire with the will to touch her, to cradle her, to be close to her- and he fell down on his knees before his maker –"Father…" he said breathlessly –"Will you make one for me too, please? For I fear that I LOVE this creature of new."

"Heylel." His father chuckled –"You do not need the pleasures of the body. You do not _need_ anything…"

Yet, as they all went back to their offices Heylel was still glued to the enchanted screen that showed what was going on in the Garden. And under the cover of darkness he watched as Lilith climbed her mate, and how she guided his rod into her cave, and how she _rode_ him; throwing her shiny black hair over her shoulder and squealing and giggling and gurgling with impossible joy. Satan watched, and he was envious.

And now he was also moody, a feeling that he hasn't encountered before, and he brooded and gloomed as he made the fiery star cool down, like his father had ordered, and poured heavy amounts of water on it. Perhaps more than was needed. But it needed to cool down. Everything just needed to cool down.

The star was now drowning.

"I do not fancy her." Said Adam to God, and all the angels watched, anticipating their father's response. Lucifer just came into the hall, wiping his brow of the sweat that gathered there. He had never sweated before.

"What's going on?"

"Shh!" said Raphael –"The new child is being a brat."

"Oh?" he smiled, despite himself.

"What's wrong with her?" God asked Adam –"She is the embodiment of female sex. She will-"

"Nah." Said Adam, kicking the dirt –"She's wild. Wouldn't let me control her. She does what she wants."

"Does what she wants?"

"Yes. Yes!" cried Adam –"She goes all over the place, and when I want to take her, she takes me instead."

"She takes you?"

"She's always on top. I do not like her character, dear God. Please, just take her away."

"Very well." Said God the almighty, and Lucifer was beside himself with anger –"Will you uncreate her, father??" he protested –"She's done nothing wrong! She was only being herself!"

"Relax, my firstborn." Soothed his father –"I will set her free and give her a kingdom of her own. She will be alright." 

"A kingdom?" swallowed Lucifer –"Of her own…"

_All the new children had their playgrounds._

*

Day broke – she wouldn't have known it if not for the change of temperature- the freezing cold was replaced with insufferable heat that made her skin soak in perspiration and her breathing heavy. The boredom and uncertainty were worse than the weather, though, and as the day lingered on, she began wondering whether her Lord left her there with intention that the room should become her tomb. Even the wasps had stopped appearing, and in their absence the quietness was truly vexing, if not flat out depressing. She did try the door a couple of times, but it was firmly shut and had no knob; plus she couldn't both hold the undying candle and use both her hands on the devilish door at the same time. When she was finally desperate, Maz began crashing into it repeatedly with her shoulder- knowing it was pointless and nevertheless unready to go down without a fight. An eternity passed it abruptly opened and her Lord was standing on the threshold, a glint of surprise flashing through his yellowy eyes as he saw the evidence of last night's terrors scattered on the floor - but it was quick to dissolve and his jaw had regained its former tightness –"I see you've kept busy." He said.

The light that he brought to the room with him was paralyzing, after who knows how many hours in almost absolute blackness; and Maz was sheltering her eyes with her arm raised to her forehead. It was then that a cool touch circled her wrist and her hand was pulled away from her face –"It isn't polite or acceptable to cover your face when we converse." His words seem to vibrate in the small space, and his presence was only an outline.

"You've imprisoned me here-" she started, her voice a growl.

"A prisoner is what you _are_."

"I thought I was a servant."

"There is no contradiction between the two." Replied Lucifer –"Why is that I see a change of attitude in you?"

"There is no change, My Lord." Said Maz in a defeated voice, nervously grazing her cracked lips with her upper teeth.

"Rough night, was it?" Lucifer smiled unpleasantly –"Are you not a warrior?"

"I am, Sire."

"So there is no need to sulk about your room presenting you with a challenge. Hell can be very creative, and it has its own mind and moods. However, this is a guest room and it obeys to the beliefs of its inhabitant. Whatever happened to you last night, which I can see was delightful- was the result of _your_ horrors. _Your_ ideas."

Maz stood there, gulping for a moment. Taking in the information whilst still feeling the itches and stings of the monster-wasps bites, the helplessness of fighting against that invisible door, and finally- the fatigue that settled in now that all dangers vanished.

"I-"

"Perplexed? Surprised?"

"Both." Answered Maz.

Lucifer's painted, heartless grin was clear now and he had let go of her hand, that kept on pulsating. A wave of understanding passed through her being and made her shudder, but he did now allow her to dwell on it.

"Make yourself presentable and see me in the lounge in 10 minutes."

"How will I tell the time?" her voice came out hoarse and her cheeks hurt when she spoke.

"You will use my titles when you address me, girl." The golden gaze seemed to cut through her and she cringed despite herself, though she was not afraid of him. This wasn't fear.

"Apologies, Your Highness." Mazikeen corrected herself –"How will I tell the time?"

"That is up to you to figure out." He replied, his tone glassy –"Here." He threw a piece of fabric at her that she had caught in mid-air –"This belonged to your mother. She had a habit of leaving her clothes lying around … and lying around in general."

"Should I wash first, your Lordship?"

"There will be no need, as you will soon be sweating worse than you already are." Said he –"Now, two minutes of your time had already gone by, wasted on this unnecessary dialogue. See me in 8." And with that he shut the door and the room was hot and dark again. Now that she could figure she was to blame for the room's wicked ways- she did not mind it as much as before. Mazikeen stepped out of her robe- a task that turned out to be more troublesome than she might have expected. Her muscles and bones were sore and they protested when she put them into action. She tossed the robe on the bench, huffing in pain, then picked up the green dress he had given her. A cruel joke on his side, but then again the Lord was known for his cold cruelty. It was his survival instinct, so to speak. He needed to be merciless in order to rule over Hell and Mazikeen did not resent him for it. She merely wanted him to be content with her, to realise that she was nothing like her outrageous mother.

The dress was too big.

It hung from her shoulders like a sack on a scarecrow and the cleavage was so vast that it left her tits exposed. Not that it mattered too much. She was able to see, as hazy as she was on the way to the tower- demonesses and monsters walking around naked as the moon; plus the Lord himself last night had asked her to strip; yet for some reason she sensed that he wanted her covered this time. She pulled the fabric upwards behind her neck and tied it high, to diminish the front opening. Then tightened it around her waist with some wax that she'd collected from the burning candle. The gown smelled like her mother, but there was another scent clinging to the material in addition, and it was peculiar. Like the husks of hazelnuts and the juice of pomegranate. Never stalling too long to consider it, Mazikeen opened the door that yielded easily and hurried to the lounge, where she found the Lord settled in a velvet couch, his wings unseen and his body clothed in a black frock.

"That was 7 minutes." He said, firmly –"I do not fancy being kept waiting."

"But, Sire-" Mazikeen blinked and opened her mouth to take a breath, to explain-

"I know what I said, there is no need to repeat my own words to me." Said he, impatiently –"The fact that you aren't late does not mean that you couldn't have done better."

"Yes, my Lord." Mazikeen muttered.

"Good." He nodded minutely –"Now, to your duties. The kitchen is right behind you-" Mazikeen turned to have a look –"Eyes on me when I speak to you, girl."

Her eyes inclined towards him once more- he was handsome. Glorious. In fact, suddenly she never understood how she could tear her eyes away from his face in the first place.

"Your pardon, Master." Muttered Maz, mesmerized by his beauty- the beauty of an angel. She'd never seen an angel before, and he, Samael-The-Fallen as they called him back at her homeland, was the most beautiful, they said. The golden locks were shorter than in the description she was given. The eyes- not blue, but yellow and sometimes orange. His superb jawline and his lips sublime and his spurious smile-

"…when I am back from my errands." Finished the Lord, closing a speech of instructions that she'd never heard. –"Is that clear?" Mazikeen nodded eagerly, not knowing what she was giving confirmation to.

"I have to depart now." Continued Lucifer and got to his feet, his wings instantly blooming on his back- this time they were feathery and black –"Not that you'd understand, but things are changing around here. Suddenly, I have to babysit a little boy." He sighed for a second.

"I'm not a boy." Exclaimed Maz, abruptly.

"I wasn't talking about you, sweetheart."

"Oh-"  
"In any case. My supper. Seven in the evening."

A cold flush ran through her – _what was he on about? Did he expect her to cook? Did he explain how, while she was staring at his magnificent eyebrows?_ "I cannot tell the time, your Highness." Said Mazikeen, feeling miserable.

"Time has no meaning around here." Came the enigmatic reply –"It does what it wants and flies at its own course. I cannot help you with that particular challenge, you'll just have to make it work."

"But, my Lord-"

"That is the end of this discussion, girl." Barked he, warningly; and though he did not seem the type to ever get angry, his cool was menacing enough to quiet her objections.

"About the food-" he continued –"Do not bother trying to make it tasty, everything in this place is tasteless. Part of God's plan, you see? I do want it to look nice, though. Makes me feel a little bit like home. What else? Oh, yes. The mess. The house tends to gather dust. It loves it, you see? Pulls it like a magnet. Get rid of it. Get rid of any pests, too. They like showing up when I am not around. Keep the windows shut, and never go in my bedroom, which is the only room on the top floor. I believe that is all."

Maz swallowed, loudly, stuttering –"Of… of co… yes, My Lord."

*

And then he made EVE. Quite the opposite of his former attempt at making a female _and_ at matchmaking- prototype 2.0 was rather dull. To say the least.

God waited for Adam to fall asleep and then ripped one of his ribs to Lucifer's horror.

"Are you uncreating _him_?!"

"Oh, for God's sakes –" muttered his father –"What is this obsession with uncreating things? I am giving him what he wanted- a mirror to look upon, his own echo to admire and his own shadow to follow him around. My little human soul, it appears, can only love _himself_."

Then he shaped the torn rib into an hourglass silhouette, granted her curves again (but not as cheeky as Lilith's), gave her long blonde hair and a vacant expression, no wits whatsoever and no mind of her own, and let her fall like a feather, naked as dawn, upon her sleeping origin.

"I hope he's happy with this one." Huffed God, as Eve curled closer to Adam and rested her head on his chest, as if sensing that was where she came from and subconsciously wishing to go back (and that is why, some say, the daughters of Eve prefer laying their heads on the chests of their men to this day).

"He's bound to like this one, Father." Said Raphael –"Are you unhappy with your creation?"

"NO." said God.

"He's disappointed." Said Michael, indifferently.

"Whatever for?" wondered Lucifer –"Isn't this just an experiment? Can he not just start anew? I mean, if he's unhappy with the new children. Is he really unhappy, Michael dear?"

"Questions and more questions-" muttered Gabriel.

"Mind your own business." Said Sandalphon.

"Lucy, why don't you go back to your ball of fire and stop wasting your wisdom wondering about the fate of the new children." Suggested Michael.

"It's not a ball of fire anymore." Replied Lucifer, proudly –"I've dipped it in water, and the water's covered everything, and now there are things in the water! Would you like to see?"

"No, thank you." Said Raphael.

Lucifer frowned and resisted an urge to slap him in his perfect face. Then, amazed by his own emotions he pursed his lips and froze with his lovely ball of sizzling life held in his hands. Clueless.

"We will have a look at it later, I promise." Said Michael –"We are all just occupied, building the Silver City- this should be our HOME, Lucy, many more angels are to be created and stay in it- they will be singing and chanting and praising our one and only father!"

"I do not care." Said Luficer, and retired from them. He went on to watching Adam and Eve in their perfect little cage. The Garden. Once, he was father's right hand- but that didn't seem the case anymore. Nobody shared 'The Plan' with him, and many more things were formed without him being involved.

Isolated. Left out, without a doubt- he was different. Perfection became a concept, an idea that could only be grasped with the mind, as the surrounding unraveled, showing more and more holes in the mold. Everything was faulty. Everything had flaws. He was seeing them now- a half-heart, a half-grin, the façade was collapsing, and there was nothing behind it to hold it together. Here and there, creation was trying to keep a straight line in a web of deformities and randomicity. There was no order to the things. There were trials and errors even in the characters of his fellow-super-beings. A gap. A miss. An abyss. He had begun to feel _hatred_. He had begun to want to punish them, to want them all to burn. He had begun to _plot_. He had begun to seek _revenge_.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how this song sounds cheerful when you first listen to it, coz of the music, but really is super dark. I hope I won't have to slow the pace after this coz what I have written still needs lots of work, but will do my best. THANK YOU for being here and feel free to comment, for what it's worth- Hope we all get thru this real-world ordeal soon.


	5. Open Wide, here comes Original Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mazikeen stays at Lucifer's tower on her own and gets into trouble, and in which Lou has sex with Eve :P

_"Hey little girl is your daddy home  
Did he go away and leave you all alone  
I got a bad desire  
I'm on fire_

_Tell me now baby is he good to you  
Can he do to you the things that I do  
I can take you higher  
I'm on fire…" ['I'm on Fire', Bruce Springsteen] _

And he was gone. She was alone in the obsidian tower, listening to the wind howling outside, for a while. For a long while. She walked from room to room later, measuring the curious artifacts that were collected by her master: the skull of a minotaur was used as a door-holder. Its mouth frozen in a yawn, it was just standing on the floor in all its ugliness. A violet crystal ball was on the mantlepiece, a cloud of swirling smoke swimming inside. All the carpets used to be animals. Some common like bears and tigers, and some more rare, such as Yetis and three-headed dogs. The pictures on the walls were tasteless: cherry-trees in bloom and human-made musical instruments, which made no sense. There were iron chains hanging from the ceiling. She did not know what they were for, and there were big wooden chests in almost every room. All in all the house hasn't stricken her fancy, and she was soon bored with it. Not knowing the time wasn't too helpful, so after the brief tour she made her way to the kitchen to see how she could make her master happy. Mazikeen's cooking skills were basic and practically came down to 'toss it in the fire'. Back home she used to feed on raw meat, honey and mead. The Lilim enjoyed grilling their meals from time to time, but mostly they just consumed the food fresh- eggs were broken straight onto the tongue, fruit were sucked with the lips, rabbits were skinned and ripped and bitten into while they were still warm. But her Lord… he demanded something else. He wanted his meal to look nice. _What did that even mean? If only she'd paid attention… Did he want it served on a plate?_ She'd heard of the custom, although she could never see the point of it. However, Mazikeen knew that there was nothing that she wouldn't do for him. The sole memory of his haunting eyes beneath his dark eyebrows was enough to motivate her, plus there was nothing for her back home but sorrow and hatred and a searing sword hanging over her neck.

The kitchen was small and clean. In fact, the house was squeaky-clean so she could not comprehend why he had mentioned so many a-times that keeping it would be hard work. There was a big-box positioned to the right, made of an unknown material. It was standing erect, like a closet- and Mazikeen dared to open it. Once she pulled at the handle the box emitted a sucking sound and a cool gust broke from behind the door, washing over her bruised face- a surprising and welcome sensation. The cooling box had shelves inside it, and upon them there were food supplies in neat packages: lobsters on a silver platter, a bundle of carrots held together with a string, a block of smelly cheese wrapped in paper, a loaf of tough brown bread, green eggs in a basket- and many, many more. Her job seemed easy enough with so much to work with. All she had to do was choose, and Mazikeen decided to go for the lobsters.

She guessed she'd have to boil them first- there were pots and pans hanging on hooks on the wall in front of her, over a small window made of yellowy glass. But where would she get water? There was a marble basin below the window and a craned iron tube rose above it. Human things. This was a tap- a mechanism to have a fresh water flow and to be able to control it. Her master sure had a fondness towards the avant-garde. She played with the handle, turned it on and off a thousand times and goggled at the sheer magic of the water coming and going to her will until a bunch of red slimy worms came out together with the water and spun in the sink. Maz howled in surprise and hurried to turn off the tap and bash the intruders with one of the pans, only content when they were reduced to a red mush. _Why in Hell had she not listened to Luficer's instructions? Ah, because he was a captivating captivator._

The burners were also a mysterious aggravation. There was a tiny symbol to represent fire next to the turning knobs, but they wouldn't light up however they were turned. Eventually she'd decided to make fire in the old fashioned way- with sticks and stones. Mazikeen told herself that it wouldn't be too terrible if she went outside to fetch them. Should only take a moment, and she'd be able to make a fire in the fireplace and cook the lobsters there.

She hesitated for a second, for the minotaur head seemed to glare at her as she approached the front door, but it was only a ghost of insecurity. Then, on second thought, she went back into the kitchen to arm herself with several knives that she concealed in her pockets.

The first thing she noticed once she opened the door was the smell. It smelled bad. Sulfur and rotting flesh and ashes and basically just stench. Back home, it all smelled of moist earth. Her mother's kingdom was the kingdom of the night, though sometimes it was twilight. The birds susurrated and the moon shone bright, deer and porcupines crept in the forests and the bats chased big insects through the trees. Mazikeen used to swing in her hammock and look up and the monkeys playing in the canopy, she used to be a monkey. Now she was a creature of dust in a yellowy realm of the master with the yellowy eyes. She examined the surroundings: the tower was located on a high and jagged cliff made of the dark stone that was cooled lava. The way down was steep, yet nothing grew around the house although there were many rocks available. She squinted her eyes to see further down, and discovered a black patch that was the burnt remains of a grove. It was bound to be the best place to get some wood or coals or both. Looking at the murky sky above her Mazikeen noted that the sun was high above, at the center of the cloudless skies. It was midday.

"Behold, t'is the Devil's bitch!" a raspy voice called out, and a second later a wad of excrement hit her forehead and some of it rolled into her dress. Mazikeen's eyes darted in all directions to detect the source of the assault but had seen nobody.

"Lucifer's harlot!"

"Lucifer's pussy!"

"Go back to your nest, little cuckoo, or we shall pluck out all your feathers."

"Pluck her and cook her!"

"Cook the cuckoo, hahahaha!"

Next to hit her was a stone. It was sharp and it scraped the back of her neck, but it had also disclosed the location of her attackers. Mazikeen looked upwards and saw three fat gargoyles lounging on a high ledge above the front door. They were airborne despite their weight, and they tossed more stones now, but this time she was able to dodge them.

"Come down here, if you wanna fight the devil's bitch." She called out, sort of liking the title although it was meant to degrade her.

"Why should we?" one of the gargoyles stuck out a green tongue between his grey lips and made a raspberry.

"Yeah, why should we?" said the second one. Mazikeen rolled her eyes. Pests, they were pests. What was her master's decree regarding them pests? Ah, right. Get rid of them, he had said.

"Why? Because the roof has just become unsafe. It's raining blades."

Mazikeen pulled out three daggers and shot them one after the other at the gargoyles. The first one got impaled while still laughing and dropped to the ground with a thud. The second and third tried to escape, hollering hysterically- but the daggers caught up with them and they both landed on the roof with a shriek of agony. _Serves them right._

*

For many moons Lucifer watched the couple walking hand in hand in the garden- the man showing the woman around, and boasting, as if he were in charge of this bounty. Adam had said: "This one I named 'Sunflower', because it resembles the sun; and Eve replied "Ooh, how wonderful, my love!". Adam had said: "This one I called 'A Fly', because it flies!"; and Eve replied "Oh, hihihi, so inspiring!". Adam had said: "This one I call 'A Waterfall', for it is merely water falling from the cliff' and Eve responded: "My love, you are _so_ wise!" – and so on and so forth. This went on until the new offspring got the complete tour of Paradise, and they finally reached the Forbidden Tree- last, but not least.

"This one," said Adam, lowering his voice and squeezing his wife's hand –"is _forbidden_. Never touch it!" he waved his finger warningly at her –"Don't even look at it. Never come near it; if you can avoid it, all the better."

"What is it called?" inquired Eve, both alarmed and intrigued.

"Well," replied Adam –"Since it is forbidden, it is called –'The Forbidden Tree'"- he concluded proudly. _Pathetic, really._ Thought Lucifer, but more than pathetic he could not help but wonder why has God, who was able to create such untimely and amazing creatures as the band of Angels, sought to make and look after these two idiots.

But then Lucifer's mind was swirling all of a sudden- and a new sparkling puff awoke deep inside him, pushing away his insecurities and his aimless longing. After a period in which he hadn't been himself and his light was dimming in front of the rising of his Dad's new favorites- he had an _idea_. But moreover, Lucifer found that he had the _passion_ to put it to practice. But it was not sole passion that drove him, for he also found the _nerve_ to disregard the persons involved and the circumstances.

He had purpose.

And so, cloaked and hooded, he descended looping down down to the Garden, down through the clusters of stars and carried with the squalls blown from the suns. Down he went like a silent, dark meteor. Down, like a snowflake; down like an innuendo- until he clashed violently- then stood abreast- with Gabriel.

" ** _Lost_** , are you?" pried his brother-angel- who was guarding the gates of the Garden. 

"By all means, no!" replied Lucifer in a voice he did not recognize as his own–"I came here bearing a gift." 

"And what is it." Snapped Gabriel, pushing a brown oily lock away from his cheekbone –"I've got work here." And he narrowed his eyes at him, clearly suspecting something, but Lucifer removed his hood and kissed his brother on his nose.

"The gift of light, of course, what else have I got to bestow?" replied Lucifer kindly and opened his palm, where a blazing little flame was dancing. Gabriel's eyes widened.

"You cannot just give them fire, brother." He said firmly. –"Children shouldn't play with fire."

"It's barely a sparkle." Frowned Lucifer –"To celebrate their birthday and their union."

"Brother." Said Gabriel and spat on the flame, extinguishing it, and then closing Lucifer's palm on the remains –"You are not your old self, you need to focus on your tasks, and I on mine. They have everything they need, and we are not to interfere. Father said specifically-"

"So he did." The Morningstar crooned –"But he also allowed us a measure of acumen and the freedom to use it. What, dearest brother, was the _reason_ to us having wisdom and wit if not to make his creation complete by improvisation and intuition? Do you reckon we are only here to follow orders?"

"YES." Gabriel was gripping his sword with both hands, to signal Samael that his patience was running out –"Now fly away, brother, before I tell father you came here unwelcomed and undeclared."

"Agreed." Replied Lucifer and took off into the vastness of the space, but he did not make his way back to the Silver City, that was now home to the angels. Instead he flapped his wings lazily, circling the Garden in a distant orbit and ruminating. There was no way to pass the guarding Gabriel unless… well… unless he was less. Unless there was less of him. Inspired by the tiny creatures that dwelled in the oceans of his brand-new lonely planet, The Morningstar thus shrunk himself into a lesser being. Tinier than a fingernail, smaller than grit – he was now the size of the particles that made light when they grouped together. The journey back to the Garden was unquestionably longer in this form, but the fact he was undetectable had made it gratifying. Once he was at the gates, Particle-Lucifer literally passed under Gabriel's nose, and the sneeze that was triggered in his brother flew him straight into an extravagant clearing amidst the beauty of beauties. Unwelcomed and undeclared he transformed back to his usual form and sighed, since he was almost sorry for what he was about to do. But only a tad. 

*

He came home when the sun began to set, and the skies were painted bloody red. Lucifer was hungry. He was always hungry but this evening he was hungrier than usual. He did not expect the servant to prepare a meal that would satisfy him, but perhaps her body will. He was walking Maggot up the hill when he noticed something out of the ordinary. The candles were lit at the many windows, showing him his way back home- but it was awfully, eerily quiet. Usually the gargoyles would be drinking at this time, telling dirty jokes to each other and rolling with laughter on the roof, the racket they used to make would be heard from miles and miles away. Not this evening. Lucifer narrowed his eyes as he hurried his stride, unhappy. Up, up the hill that seemed to be running away from him as the trail grew snakingly longer. Hell was full of capers and cruel traps, yet it would not torment its Lord for more than a few heartbeats. The ground felt that he was cross, and once it did, it straightened under his feet and eased his course. He walked for several minutes before coming to a halt in front of the first gargoyle's carcass.

"Heavens…" he muttered, leaning to feel for a pulse that wasn't there for many hours. The horse gave the body a sniff and then neighed.

"Dead?" asked Lucifer, perplexed –"but for what _reason_?"

The demon Lord spread his wings and flew up to the roof- landing on the shaky tiles and breaking them with his weight. He'd found another dead gargoyle- a dagger stuck in his throat.

"What is the meaning of this?" his eyebrows came together, pondering.

"Sir… hey, Lou-" a breathy voice startled him and he turned to see the third gargoyle whose name was Gaudium, bleeding and clutching his chest – where The Lord wasn't surprised to see a second dagger sticking out –"Your… guest-"

Lucifer's expression darkened as he stepped closer to the creature, standing above him –"Did she leave the house?" he did not let his voice show his panic, but panic was there, nevertheless.

"Ye… yes…" managed the gargoyle with a huge effort –"We… tried to… to scare her…"

"And she's killed you? You useless pieces of-"

"Hey, I'm not dead yet!" protested the gargoyle.

"You will be soon, my friend." Commented Lucifer grimly –"Is your soul still intact?"

"Sure." Replied Gaudium, coughing –"Who could harm our _lovely_ cute and cuddly souls?-"

"Don't make me sorry that she didn't, Gaudium. We'll have you all fixed later. There's a more pressing matter at the moment, I'm afraid. Where was she headed?"

The gargoyle chuckled, some blood spraying out of his nose –"The burnt… bush… bahh! The silly little cuckoo."

"But that's days away." Muttered Lucifer.

"Yeah, t'is." Breathed the gargoyle –"Prolly all _wrecked_ and _ruined_ by now, your little protégé. Didn't take no water, no provisions. She didn't even have any shoes on."

"That is my fault." Said Lucifer, but it was aimed at himself –"When did she leave?"

"Hours ago, centuries ago… who knows."

"Focus!" Lucifer grabbed him by his throat, but the sudden jolt caused trauma to the already withering body and it stiffened in his hold, eyes glazing and then dissolving like ink in water. With a grunt Lucifer dropped the gargoyle- that was now stone- back on the roof. To his displeasement the thing was so heavy that it tore through the tiles and destroyed the kitchen ceiling, landing in the sink. It left a large hole behind it through which Luficer was now peering as he shook his head. "I'll be back" he said to no one in particular, and flapping his enormous wings soared into the night. 

*

First, he was looking for the Forbidden-Tree. One would think his father would hide it somewhere distant and inaccessible to make certain it will never be touched, but in truth the tree stood right at the center of the Garden, and nothing was growing around it. Moreover, it was easy to spot as the fruit it was bearing were many and heavy, and they made its branches bend all the way to the ground. No one relieved it from its burden, because picking the forbidden fruit was…well, forbidden; and if that wasn't enough the punishment for eating them would be a form of annihilation called 'death', and that didn't sound like much fun. Lucifer slowly paced around the tree with his hands behind his back, examining the fruit closely and carefully. They were full and round ( _like Lilith's breasts,_ thought he), and he'd imagined they would be tempting to consume, if you were human.

He was leaning forward, almost touching the tip of his nose to the surface of the pome that was closest, when he heard a ruffle of leaves behind him and turned gracefully- because he was not surprised.

"Oh, you don't want to do _that_!" it was Eve, prototype 2.0, her flowing hair grew so long it was brushing her kneecaps, and her eyes were two bright stars. She wore a garland of pink and purple flowers wrapped around her brow.

"No need to worry, just browsing." Said the Lord of Light and folded his wings so that he doesn't intimidate her. He then approached her, smiling- as beautiful and as handsome and as attractive as the prince he was. People tend to believe that he came disguised as a _snake_ , but that is utter nonsense and a common mistake. The original writings said that he came _sneaking_ in, but due to a poor typo and some bad PR the mistake was tattooed for all eternity. Anyways he didn't. Come as a snake, that is. He came as himself and he approached Eve, and as he approached her, he began to feel even _stranger_ than he did during all this time since God began to talk about his masterplan. He _fancied_ her scent, for one. He _hated_ her at the same time. "Hello, Eve."

"Hello!" said Eve and beamed at him in such a coy and charming manner, yet projected stupidity –"Are you a talking animal? What did Adam name you?"

This was irritating and Lucifer wanted to put her alight, but then he figured that the creature was bluntly dumb and naïve. There was no point blaming her for that. 

"I am named Lucifer." He said pleasantly –"It means the bearer of light."

"You sure are shiny!" giggled Eve.

"I am, aren't I" said Lucifer, smirking –"Now, where is your husband, my dear?"

"He is tending the garden." Said Eve –"Planting watermelon seeds and I am to feed the hummingbirds!" she added joyfully –"The hummingbirds are called 'hummingbirds' because-"

"Yes, darling, I know why." Offered Lucifer softly and took another step forward. Something thick and terrible dispersed below his chest, tightening his stomach, transforming his voice into a sound slick and secret –"How long will he be?"

"Erm… he said he'll come back at nightfall."

"At nightfall." Repeated the Morningstar –"That is the time when the night _falls_ , I presume?"

"Oh, yes!" giggled Eve –"How did you _know_ this?"

"I know many things." Bragged Lucifer, although there was no need to further impress her.

"Like you knew my name?"

"That is right, sweet flower."

"I am not a flower!" laughed Eve, shaking her golden curls and pointing at her garland –"It's just an ornament!"

"Ah, how my eyes _deceived_ me! " cried Lucifer –"And here I thought you were a flower, bathed in dew, carrying a scent so blissful and I was about to pluck you!"

"Flowers don't speak." Said Eve solemnly.

"No, they do not." Agreed Satan –"But if they did, they would sound exactly like that melody coming out of your… mouth."

Knowing not why he had done it, he touched her lower lip with his fingertip and the fluid in his veins came to an intoxicating rush. Just touching another, like that, had thrown a blanket of haze about him, it was better than anything, and more fulfilling. Eve stared at him with clear doe eyes, gasping –"What… what are you doing?" she said with wonderment. She was so pure, so untainted that she obviously had no concept of wrong and right. She had no way of telling that his touch was out of line. And for some _reason_ , Lucifer found that arousing.

Speaking of arousal- the foreign sensation between his legs grew stronger as he touched her, turned into a burn that was both demanding and blithesome at the same time- flooding him with such elation even his wings could not compete with. And when he glanced downward he saw to his amazement that he grew one! He had one of his own now! – A stick, a prick, a DICK. Stiff as a staff and smooth as silk. He chuckled with absolute joy, hugging Eve and pulling her close, pressing her warm body to his newest asset and discovery- which in turn responded with a happy nod.

"Good God!" he said into her shoulder, and Eve giggled, sharing his joy and completely misreading him.

"Umm…" she muttered after he rubbed against her a couple of times, uncontrollably, shutting his eyes and relishing this new and edging pleasure that tantalized his very being-

"What troubles you, babe?" he said breathlessly (and mind you, he called her 'babe' not in an earthy manner- God forbid. He called her 'babe' for she was a newborn in so many different ways- it was only natural).

"Well…" said Eve, getting slightly uncomfortable –"I only do these things with Adam."

"Oh, right." Said Lucifer immediately. _Right. This was work. This was a mission, he had to focus._

But as he broke from her, reluctantly, he watched with glazing eyes a single thread, a see through line as delicate as a cobweb stretching from his cock to her. Gooey. Tangible and utterly magnificent. However, he had to destroy it as he reached towards her sex with his riotous hand and caressed her there - "Ah." He said –"But my dear, I am only here to _help_ you with Adam, and teach you a few methods to make him love you more. Would you not like that? To learn?"

"Umm…" Eve hesitated, but Lucifer grew impatient and out of instinct fumbled in her most intimate of places, until he located a tiny pulsating bump and brushed his finger around and on it- to investigate. _Now, what was that?_

"Eeek!" yelped Eve and collapsed into his arms, surprised and charmed. Lucifer could not believe his luck, if it was indeed luck or divine intervention- he couldn't have cared less. His body was hot and ready. Ready to do what he had seen Adam doing with Lilith. Ready to do what he had seen Adam doing with Eve. Ready to do that thing that he craved even more than his father's love. So ready, that for a minute there he was considering neglecting his plan-

"Adam didn't touch you there, now did he?" Lucifer heard himself saying and felt her hair brushing his neck as she shook her head from side to side, very slowly.

"It's-" she breathed-

"Yes, Darling. I know, I know." He said, although he didn't. But then the urge to say it was a driving force, stronger than everything. It had complete control over him.

"Lie down now." He offered and placed her on the grass. Looking down at her with inferno in his eyes – it's not her appearance that enticed him so, it was her unaware submission and her unknowing will. She was about to _sin_ , only she had no idea…

"Lucifer-" said she, clawing at his chest –"come into me, teach me more-"

"But of course, Darling." He replied with a smirk –"I am coming."

*


	6. Ashes to Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucifer retrieves Maz from the wilderness and intends to punish her for straying :P

_"Strung out in heaven's high  
Hitting an all-time low." ['Ashes to Ashes', David Bowie] _

The burnt bush was not far from his tower, yet the way there was long and tedious. Lucifer gathered that his servant had mistakenly thought it to be a short trip when she wandered out of the house. _But why would she go there in the first place?_ More and more problems popped up since she's arrived and taking care of her safety was beginning to seem like more than he had bargained for. However, he had to keep his promise to her mother. _The Devil always kept his promises._ Flying through sheer darkness and keeping his eyes open for a trace of her, he was berating himself for not locking the door. A prisoner. She was a prisoner, and he of all beings needed to recognize the importance of caging them in. All the residents of his kingdom were controlled and monitored. Some behind bars, some guarded by vicious animals, some imprisoned within their own dreadful visions- and he, the warder, imprisoned with them in the one big jail that was Hell. That last thought was unbearable, because for all the vastness of his kingdom, Lucifer knew well it was only created to seclude him, to confine him, to keep him quarantined.

Landing on the charred ground on the verge of the bush, he folded his feathered wings as his thoughts took a nasty turn. _Oh, if he ever finds her again, she'll be shackled and whipped until she bled. If he ever finds her again, she’ll be begging to the spirits that he hadn't_. He then began walking, meticulously inspecting the ashes at his feet for footprints- but if those ever existed, they were already blown by the wind that never ceased to shift in this place. The Lord scowled as the ire in him rose steadily. If he finds her again, he will tear all the hairs from her scalp one by one. He would do so _patiently_ , attentively. He will take his time, like one grooms a cherished animal, and once he's done, _he will rub her scalp with vinegar_. Oh, the idea was comforting and alluring. If he finds her again… (he thought with hope regained-)- - - but then his attention was grabbed swiftly by a grumble. He looked down and saw a tortoise, lying flat on its back. The creature was so blackened by the ashes that it was camouflaged perfectly, and it was struggling to roll over and waving its limbs about.

"What happened?" Demanded Lucifer.

"Someone stepped on me, Lord." Complained the tortoise, his voice dry and snappy.

"What someone?"

"A girl." Breathed the creature.

" _What_ girl?!"

"A demoness in a green dress. There was no _reason_ for her to be here, in my territory. Tried to hunt the painted partridge- my meal! I ran so fast, My Lord. Never knew I could run like that, and then I bit her with my poisoned beak!" said the creature proudly. –"Please, My Lord-" panted the tortoise –"If you could just turn me back to the state of-"

Lucifer then stepped on its neck, pinning him to the ground with the heel of his foot –"Where is she? Where did she go?"

"Nowhere, My Lord, she couldn't possibly move! My poison stops all, my poison is good. She only kicked me once she fell, hence is the state of me. My Lord, would you please-"

In a rush of worry, Lucifer scanned the surroundings with his bright eyes, spotting her body draped upon a broken trunk. He never would have noticed her if not for the encounter with the tortoise, for she was but a shadow on shadow. Hidden by illusive night. And yet he neglected the tortoise and hurried to pick her up. Tenderly. All his malice abandoned, and something inside him unwinding unexpectedly, Lucifer looped his arm around her waist and secured the Daughter-of-Lilith in place – held against his body- as her head tilted backwards, heavy and unconscious, and fell on his shoulder. The Demon Lord let out a soft gasp and spread his big wings, beating them to find a current of air that would be strong enough to levitate the both of them.

"No! Please don't go! Please don't leave me this way!" cried the tortoise as they went up into the air, fast, like a shooting star. 

"NOOO!" he kept on crying desperately, a voice that soon disappeared beneath a blanket of clouds, for Lucifer preferred to fly high.

"Hold on, you bundle of trouble." Said Lucifer, tightening his grip around her –"We'll set you straight, then make you suffer. So better stay in the realm of Dream whilst you still can…"

*

The first time being inside a woman, well, the first time being inside the first woman, to be exact, was divine. The pleasure of all pleasures, all existence dwarfed in the face of it, all the celestial bodies bowed their heads in the light of this enticement. This… enthrallment… this… heavenly prayer. The pressure on his cock was impossible, but only just… combined with the juices of her body that cradled him and eased his motions inside this sacred tightness made him howl uncontrollably, as the wolves of the Garden howled in reply. He was on his elbows, (but mind you- not because God had condemned him to, but because he wanted to see her face as he pushed back and forth into her)- then he was on his palms, looking at Eve from above, noting how she was wrinkling her features, in agony, but only just… as the garland slid off her head and was mashed into the dirt, with the writhing of her body. She cried out, and was suddenly sobbing- like the babe that she was- but Lucifer would not stop and he would not stall and he would not halt. The sole notion of handing her pain through this splendid sensation was even more transcendent than the act alone, and he was an animal racking its prey. He was a force, propelling forcefully. Her pain was his pleasure. Her pleasure was his pleasure. And she could have been anyone at this point, but the fact that she was Eve, the blessed, loved child, enhanced said pleasure until it was too much- even for him- but only just…

He opened and closed his wings to give his thrusts a further boost, to claim her more powerfully than he already did.

"Oh, Lucifer!" moaned Eve, the tears in her eyes like precious stones.

"What is it, Child?" said he, his voice even sweeter than before, because he was heedless, and because he was coming to the brink of something, something that had taken his breath and bothers away.

"I understand now," said Eve meekly –"that Adam could never cause this… vibration in me."

"Oh," said Lucifer "Ah..-dam… can… learn-" and with that, he felt the burn inside him bursting, a supernova in his stomach bombarding all his senses, the natural, and the super-natural, he'd really thought this was his death- whatever death was. And he had shuddered and quivered with a reaction so intense he nearly lost his sense of self, for he was nothing. And to top that, his new organ leaked – no, not leaked- splashed. Something was gushing out of it, his own _fluids_ \- a warm and happy drain it was. A release. A relief. Collapsing on Eve, Lucifer wept into her locks, and held her rigidly. And all the angels who watched them from a distance wept in reply; but not for the same reason, because they were untainted, and he was sly.

*

"Technically I did not deflower her!" insisted Lucifer, earlier that day –"Adam had done it many-a-times before I came… well, into the picture."

"Yes, but you gave her an orgasm." Answered Death.

"Well, technically it was numerous orgasms, but w- well, how would you know that?!" he frowned –"Are you on my case?"

"On your case?" blinked Death.

"Are you studying me?"

"Now, why would I do that, you imbecile."

"Then how come you came up with all these details all of a sudden?"

"Well." Started Death –"If you must know, I have a brother named Destiny and he's got this book with-"

"The history of everything. I know." Said Lucifer –"Look. I really don't wish to get into a quarrel over this, but the kid-"

"Is exactly where he needs to be." Concluded Death and stepped towards him, waving her finger–"I don't have time for your adolescent whining, Lucifer. You need to grow up, and you need to step up. None of us likes our jobs, alright? We're just stuck with them, because God has a plan-" her voice dropped a couple of octaves –"and it is not up to me, and certainly not up to you to question it. _Comprende_!? You will take the kid, and you will see that he gets raped and fried and baked- whatever it takes! I did my part, now you do yours and leave me outta it."

Then she got into her car and drove off.

Lucifer stood there for a long while, gazing at the black splotch in the faded wilderness, shrinking by the second as she made way out of his kingdom. She was free to leave, and he was stuck there for all eternity. And now, to top his other duties- all of his relatives were dumping unwanted children on his head. The Demon Lord flew to the hotel to check the boy in. Most of the new arrivals were not sent there, but some cases were unique. He located Darren sitting on a high stool at the bar, consuming whiskey.

"Hi." Said Lucifer and took the seat next to him –"You must be shaken."

"Nah." Said the boy and shrugged –"This scotch tastes like puke." He spat his recent sip back into the glass. 

"Nothing in my kingdom is nice, I'm afraid, including the people."

"So, what am I supposed to do around here? It's a shithole."

"Yes." Said Lucifer, trying not to be offended by the bluntness of the declaration –"Ultimately, you'd have to suffer for the suffering you inflicted on others."

"They didn't suffer, I just shot them with my father's gun. Boom-bang-paw! The dumb kids at my school, the damn Math teacher who gave me a D, and the rest of 'em, too. They deserved it! And they sure ain't sufferin' now."

"Well." Said Lucifer, and for a while, it was all he could say. Death didn't tell him about all that. Perhaps she figured the parents were the worst part…

"What? Ya gonna tell me off now? Because it don't matter. I already dun it, Mister. Now, can I go home? Or are they puttin' me in jail? They can't do that, ya know. I'm a kid!"

"What about your sister?" inquired Lucifer, his face getting more and more concerned- not for the boy- but for the _reason_ he ended up in his custody. He'd seen everything, or so he believed till now, but a boy so young becoming a killer was truly a sign of the times.

"What about her?" the kid shot at him.

"I'm sure she misses her fingers, and I'm sure she's suffering." 

"She's gets everything she wants!" Replied the boy, face scrunched in anger.

"She's a _baby_." Stressed Lucifer.

"She broke my phone! But now she ain't gonna do it no more! That's why I taught the damn bitch a less-"

The Demon Lord smacked him generously across his angelic face, and the boy immediately flinched and held his palm to his sore cheek –"I don't wanna be here!" he yelled –"I wanna go home!"

"That isn't possible, Darren, you are dead."

"Then I will come back as a ghost!"

Lucifer evaluated the option for a moment, humming as he was –"Interesting." He'd said. This could be his way out –"I would have to consult with Death."

"The lady who brought me here?"

"Yes."

"But she's gone!"

"She'll come back. One day." Promised Lucifer, mostly to himself, because dealing with that kid was looking more and more hellish.

"So we just sit here and wait!?" Darren's face instantly turned red, but it could have been just the scotch.

"No," said The Demon Lord –" _You_ sit here and wait, I, on the other hand, have a kingdom to run." And he had gotten to his feet, softening somewhat when he glanced at the boy this time, because his pretty visage reminded him of home. He could have passed as an angel from the Silver City, if not for the spite in him. –"You can have as much liquor as you like." Said Lucifer in the tone of a hotelier, and then added –"And I hear that upstairs there are video games that last forever."

"Don' care." The boy shrugged.

"It's your call." Muttered Lucifer and left him there. His concerns growing and biting his insides.

*

This was a long day indeed and thoughts of the boy and of Death were still haunting him as he flew back to his tower with the poisoned daughter of Lilith in his arms. In this desolate place things rarely changed, but the past two days were so eventful he began to think that bigger powers than Lilith and Death were on the move. And he was concerned. Lucifer bridal carried her into his house. He laid her in the tub and picked the ladle from the water barrel that stood nearby. Some parts of his house were equipped with human technology- but the guest rooms were traditionally primitive, since his guests were mostly… well, primitive. He scooped water from the barrel and showered her face with coldness that kicked her out of unconsciousness and into shock. She opened her eyes and mouth at once, gulping on big chunks of air and staring at him awkwardly- first without knowing his face, then with recognition and awe. The light-bearer kept the water flowing and his eyes stern as they fixed on her violet ones- "It occurred to me," he said, struggling inside to keep his calm –"that I do not know your name."

The demoness opened her mouth to speak, but the water that he poured into it was somehow more tempting at the moment, so she drank, acting on an instinct. She even raised her hands to steady the ladle he was holding to her mouth as she gulped. 

"A name may prove rather useful when one aims to cast a spell in order to locate their lost property."

"Sire-"

"It could also come in handy when one wishes to retrieve the state of awareness in another."

"Sire-"

"You be quiet until I order you to speak!" he snapped, spreading his wings and tossing the ladle aside –"You have failed me on your first day in my realm. You cannot even comprehend the amount of disorder you have caused!"

The girl lowered her eyes now as the water dribbled from her chin. He could see that his words were getting to her, for her shoulders shivered.

"You left the house." He began –"When I had warned you not to do as little as open a window. You left my tower unattended. You've killed my servants-"

With that, the girl jerked and gazed at him, a giant question mark painted all over her tanned face –"I-"

"What?" said Lucifer impatiently –"Do not pantomime at me. I'd rather you spoke it."

"I figured they were pests…" she whispered, honestly.

"PETS!" cried Lucifer –"Not pests!"

"I'm awfully sorry, your highness." The girl went completely pale –"I was off to fetch woods for the fire, to cook you your dinner. They attacked me, I am but a warrior."

"Indeed." He said with a sudden interest and leaned forward to grab her chin –"Indeed, you are so."

"What are you going to do, Sire? Will you send me back to the lands of Eternal Night?"

Lucifer smiled dryly, half closing his eyes as he brushed over her bruised cheek with the pad of his thumb –"That is not an option, girl. Your mother had entrusted me with your soul."

"My soul…?"

"Your soul." He said, his hollow smile widening –"Did they not tell you Satan was a collector? Keeps them in bottles, in his cellar. Gets intoxicated on them as he rolls around in blood."

"Do you mock me, Lord?" when she spoke, her chin vibrated in his hold. A hummingbird fluttering in the webs of a spider.

"Aye." He replied –"You won't be sent back, but the house rules demand you shall be punished."

The girl blushed. A rush of heat sparking under his fingertips. The Demon Lord released her and stepped away from the tub –"Do you fret?"

"I do not fret." She shot back, haughtily.

"What was that?"

"I do not fret, Sire."

"Then it is settled. Wash yourself then see me in the lounge. There are robes in the cupboard. Wear one."

"I could come naked, Sire."

"Why would you come naked." Said he, darkly. It was his turn to blush.

"I figured-"

"You better stop figuring as it leads you to ailing conclusions. Systematically. This isn't about sex." And with that, he slammed the bathroom door on her.

*


	7. The Taste of the Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer keeps on torturing Mazikeen coz he sorta enjoys it, and i'm not the one the hold it against him...

_"You are not the single type  
So baby, this the perfect time  
I'm just trying to get you high  
And faded off this touch  
You don't need a lonely night  
So baby, I can make it right  
You just got to let me try  
To give you what you want_

_You've been scared of love and what it did to you  
You don't have to run, I know what you've been through  
Just a simple touch and it can set you free  
We don't have to rush when you're alone with me_

_I feel it coming, I feel it coming, babe…" ['I Feel it Coming', The Weekend]_

If sin was such a terrible thing, Lucifer could not have gathered why it felt so terrific. Or perhaps that was the point of all this? Making it worthwhile, so that once one of them sinned, they'll be convincing enough to pull the other straight into the trap. Curious. But not as curious as the sight of his new gadget hardening anew. After almost disintegrating during their first coitus, yet surviving to tell the tale, The Angel of Light figured there'd be no _further_ damage in doing it again and again. He was becoming _good_ at it, and festively creative. The addiction that came with the mere union of two bodies was simply unbelievable and through the course of intercourse, it occurred to Lucifer that their Father had initially created them incomplete, so they'd be pulled toward each other. For only in this connection was true wholesomeness, and both Eve and himself forgot about what was at stake and they renounced all shame. The Angel had her up against a tree, and down in the bushes and in the rippling stream of the fresh fountain as the mockingbird watched them from above. "Ahhh, Ohhh!" cried Eve with joy as Lucifer was pounding into her time and again with growing lust. "Ahhh, Ohhh!" cried the mockingbird in reply and took off, flying and crying "Ahhh, Ohhh!" all over the garden.

"The mockingbird is called 'mockingbird' because-" started Eve.

"Oh, shut up!" growled Lucifer and fucked her harder.

It was only when evening came upon them that he woke up from his lecherous trance and regained his sense of sensibility. He watched his defiled lover washing his scent off her body with the bubbling water, and then rubbing off the remains with moist petals and the milk of flowers. She was stupid, that one, but not stupid enough as not to acknowledge that she had done something obscene. She even wept quietly, the poor thing. Lucifer frowned and walked over to her. –"Child of God-" he said-

"No." said Eve, shaking her head in the cool of the evening –"Do not again come near."

"I was merely thinking." He said, pointing at the Forbidden Tree –"That you should eat something to regain your strength."

Eve stared upwards with shining eyes and muttered kindly –"The tree is almost giving under the burden of the fruit…"

"Yes, yes it is." Agreed the Light-Bearer, eyeing the tree. No bird and no butterfly approached it albeit the beauty of it. No bug buzzed around it and no squirrels played in its inviting branches.

"I am not to touch it." Said Eve apologetically –"I am not allowed to."

"Very well." Said Lucifer-"However, the tree has healing powers, and if Adam sees you at this state he will know for certain that you have slept with another. He will obliterate you for it."

"Obliterate me?" Eve was shocked and her eyes filled with tears.

"Indeed." Replied Lucifer heartlessly, stroking his cock- for her fragility triggered a new rush of excitement within him –"He had a wife before you, did you know?" he relished her expression of horror –"Yes, my dear. He did. But he wasn't content with her, and she was uncreated."

"Ohh!" shrieked Eve –"Help me, Lucifer. I do not want to be uncreated!"

"Of course I will." Soothed the Angel –"Just bend over that bank for me."

*

Unlike himself, Lucifer was growing edgy as he awaited the girl to come receive her punishment. He had rolled the rug and exposed the hard stones underneath. She should not feel comfortable while taking what he had in store for her; the fitting response for her disorderly behavior – yet the fact she had mentioned sex made him a tad bleary. Sex and punishment could go hand in hand. The notion was so common it had almost been a given. Particularly in his kingdom. However, he'd selected to keep his sexual affairs outside the house, for reasons of convenience and detachment. It was only Lilith who used to challenge that practice, and she'd been a thorn in his backside.

Once the girl appeared on the doorstep, Lucifer ignored her altogether. He was pulling several chains from the ceiling and weighing them until he was content with a couple, then walked over to the mantlepiece and picked up a pair of manacles- testing their durability by observing the state of the leather and scraping it with a fingernail. He could feel the girl's eyes on his naked back and shoulders, and chose to pay it no mind. Finally, he ducked to unlock a wooden box he had dragged to the center of the room earlier and carded through the many fabrics folded neatly inside. –"Come here." He said softly, whilst still on his knees. He had seen her step forward out of the corner of his eye, and come to a halt below the hanging chains.

"Alright." Said Lucifer, rising and coming to stand opposite her with the manacles in one hand and a piece of wool in the other. The demoness was shaking in her silk violet robe that stuck to her body for the wetness it was unable to absorb.

"You said you didn't fret." He reminded her, placing a hand on her shoulder and feeling her twitch nervously.

"I do not fret, my Lord."

"You still haven't given me your name." he attempted to distract her while putting the cloth between his teeth and using his free hand to fasten the first manacle around her right wrist, looking down at her fingers curling.

"It's Mazikeen, Sire."

"Hmm." He gently let go of her hand and pulled the cloth out from his mouth –"For harm, is that it?"

"Aye, My Lord." Said she, lowering her eyes.

"It has an interesting ring. Mazikeen." He repeated the sounds –"Yes, one of your mother's better choices."

"Thank you."

"What were the harms you had done to have gained such a promising name?"

"I was conceived, Sire, much to the dissatisfaction of my father."

"Mmhmm." Nodded Lucifer, and then, out of nowhere, he saw the sparkle of a tear- round and big- sliding down her cheek. An unforeseen consternation clutched him, and he knew he needed to put her at ease. "This will absorb the sudden leakage-" he said, pressing the cloth to her eyes and gently tying it around her head –"Less triggers." He was sort of talking to himself as he caressed the blusish-black hair, and then, out of instinct, leaned forward to brush the shuddering lips with his, deciding against it before making contact. This wasn't about sex. This wasn't about sex.

"What has she told you about me?" he closed the second manacle around her second wrist, and then pulled at the chain to lift her entire body from the floor.

Blindly, Mazikeen's head hung between her stretched arms. Her body was lax, defeated. He hadn't even done anything. The folk that ended up in his realm, oh, they would hang and scream and squirm for hours. They loved it. The taste of the whip, the nails driven into their foreheads and the softness of their flesh, the burn of the flaming coals taken straight from the fireplace and pressed against their parts where the skin was the thinnest-

"That you were… uncompromising, unforgiving."

Lucifer chuckled –"A funny description."

"How so, My Lord?" Muttered Mazikeen, shaking her head blindly, following his voice.

"She had never tasted my wrath, your mother. I had always been nothing but a husband to her. Never her master."

"She must have seen you dominating others." Said the demon girl. Lucifer frowned –"You must have taken your wrath out on others." She added, and a good thing she was not able to see his face, as it stiffened like flint.

"I have… what?" Lucifer lunged forward and grabbed the girl by her hair –"What are you?" he whispered, measuring her face- half angry, half curious.

"I am my mother's daughter."

"Indeed." Hissed Lucifer –"Indeed…" he let go of her hair and stepped backwards to study her. A riddle. A mystery. Hung up in her chains Mazikeen swung forwards and back by the force of his most recent move. The blindfold prevented her from seeing the frustration in his expression. The wonderment.

"A traitor in my house?" he asked, softly.

"No. I am a loyal servant, My Lord."

"Then why have you disobeyed me?"

"Because the orders you'd given me were impossible to follow."

"Really." Said Lucifer, letting a small portion of irony ooze into his tone –"Staying inside? Was that too much to ask for?"

"You said to cook, but there was no way to make a fire." Muttered the demoness, raising her head and aiming it straight ahead, as if she could see him though blindfolded –"You'd have come home, there would be no hot meal on the table awaiting you. You'd have punished me anyhow. I had to improvise."

And then it hit him- he'd never told her how to use the stove. Of course. He'd been too preoccupied with establishing his status, his role as her master. He'd completely forgotten about the fine details, the practicalities of his house. To her, who grew up in the woods, it must look like an alien planet. Lucifer blushed, yet he was too proud to ask for her forgiveness. She was a slave, and her mother's daughter- which meant nothing positive. He stepped closer again and placed his hand on her shoulder. She flinched.

"Very well." said he, noting her reaction to his touch and disliking it –"A mild punishment then, for a start."

"Yes, Sire." muttered the girl.

"But before we get to that… there is something else. You were bitten by a tortoise in the burnt bush."

"Yes." Said Mazikeen, clearly upset –"It is unbecoming for a hunter to be surprised like that, by a creature so slow and so _low_." He lips twisted in disgust.

"That is besides the point." Snapped Lucifer –"You were poisoned."

"I don't feel poisoned anymore, Sire."

"The water slowed it down a notch." He said, walking over to the kitchen and annoyed to be reminded that the hole in the ceiling and the dead gargoyle in the sink were still there. He picked up the gargoyle and shoved it in the fridge- for the time being –"However," he continued as he opened a cabinet that was filled with bottles and hovered with his finger over the many labels –"T'is a vicious poison, and it will come back for a second round."

"What happens in second round?" wondered Mazikeen.

"Mostly vomit." Said Lucifer casually, and picked up the bottle he was looking for, approaching her once more –"In spite of the tortoise being proud of the quality of his poison, truth is you're too big to enjoy its full effect."

"Which is?"

"Excessive bleeding and slow decay of internal organs. Open up." He ordered.

"Vomit doesn't sound too terrible." Commented the girl, is if to herself.

"It is if it happens in my bed."

"In your _bed_ , Sire?" repeated Maz with astonishment in her voice –"But I thought you said-"

"Silence!" he barked at her and she opened her mouth obediently. The gesture had allayed his furor somewhat and instead of putting the bottle to her lips he found himself pushing his finger inside, just to check…

There was a soft sigh from Maz as the finger touched to her tongue, but no more words or questioning. Even with the blindfold, he could see that she'd closed her eyes before closing her mouth on his finger and sucking quietly.

"Who told you to do that?" whispered Satan, but his tone was not unkind. In fact, he was fighting the instinct to shove his finger evermore into the back of that throat, to explore, to find the point where she'd really have to resist regurgitation- but it was too much, too soon. And this wasn't about sex, after all. Uncapping the bottle with his teeth, Lucifer pulled out his finger then and pressed the bottle to her lips, warned her before tilting it –"This is going to be unpleasant on your taste buds-" He promised. Then he pinched her nose with two fingers and pushed her head backwards, pouring the content of the bottle into her mouth without further ado. The taste was vile, and he knew it; he could see her struggling between suffocation and spitting it all out- an act he would usually punish her for- but he decided to gracious this time.

"Here, I'll help you keep your mouth shut-" he muttered and then, unblinking, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers, keeping their lips sealed together. He was breathing through his nose and felt her helplessness stimulating his thirst for… well, fucking. But this wasn't about sex. Lucifer dropped the bottle and ran his now free hand up and down her throat, applying a little pressure to encourage her to swallow. When she finally did, he felt a buzz of accomplishment that almost made his ears ring. He let go of her and watched her coughing with an exultant grin –"Good girl." He breathed, even more content that she had nothing to say in return. Yes, even more concerned. 

"Now, as to your punishment." He stepped backwards to gain a better view –"You will stay in these chains for two hours and reflect on what you've done. I will be sitting on the couch, not too far. You've seen it- you know where it is. If you need anything…" _such as more pain and distress –_ he thought to himself –"then… call me."

"You said time moved differently here, Sire." she said, but her voice was careful, like walking on eggshells.

"So I did. So it does." replied Lucifer and walked over to the couch, suddenly drained. In part, he didn't really wish to do that. All he had craved was to come back home to a hot meal and a bath, and not to have to deal with three dead gargoyles- his favorites; and the misbehaving daughter of Lilith. He was just too tired and worn out for these rituals. It has been years, ages, since he had to train a servant and the job was making him edgy and mean. It was always such a long process and right now he just wanted it done for him. _A servant training a servant._ Why hadn't he thought of that before? He shed his heavy wings and relaxed into the soft cushions of the couch. Perhaps he could fall asleep for a while, for a little while- No. His responsibilities kept him up. He found himself staring at the girl, with her head thrown over to one side, her toes only an inch above the floor, hovering, as if she were an apparition. A Ghost-Girl. But she was not a ghost-girl. In fact, she was the first fresh and living thing he had encountered since he was cast out of Heaven. Her spirits were resilient, and her body… stretched out like this, glistening with the effort of keeping held up in her chains, flexible, and tangible, and… and willing. To please him. But this wasn't about sex.

With a change of heart, he got up from his seat and approached her, pulling down on the chains without warning and having her collapse into his arms, her chin awkwardly resting against his naked shoulder as he supported her weight. 

"What's wrong? what happened?" mumbled the demon-girl –"Have I done something wrong, My Lord?"

"Your punishment is over." Said Lucifer stiffly –"Two hours." and he uncuffed her and swung her up, throwing her over his shoulder. "I don't want you walking on the floor with no shoes on-" he explained –"The floor is filthy. There are things here that were blown in through the hole in the roof-" he began climbing up the spiraling steps- towards his bedroom.

"I thought I wouldn't make it." Mumbled Maz, somewhere behind his ribs.

"You've been through much worse." said Lucifer and strode down the corridor, finally standing in front of his door. The door that lead to his chambers.

"Now, about my bed." He had the need to clarify before he opens the door –"We're not going to turn this into a habit. It's simply the safest place in the house as long as there's a hole in the roof."

"Yes, Sire. I didn't realise there was a hole-"

"I'm not finished."

"Apologies, Sire."

"You will stay on your side of the bed, which is the left side." He put his hand on the knob –"and during the night, there will be no fidgeting-" he opened the door and walked into his room –"No moving about, no touching me-"

"Of course, Sire." Said Mazikeen.

"No snoring-"

"I do not snore, Sire." –

He threw her on the bed, watching her wriggle towards the edge of it, taking as less space as possible.

"No leaving the bed in the dead of night-"

"I won't, Sire."

"And no waking me up unless all Hell breaks loose. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sire. Clear as the stars in the skies." Nodded Maz, half her face hidden by her hair, that was still damp, to his annoyance.

"Good." He was finally half-pleased –"I am going to wash up now, and when I am back, I expect you to be fast asleep. You haven't had any sleep last night, and there's a long day ahead of you tomorrow. So unless you're seeking for more punishment-"

"No, Sire. Not at all."

"Great." Giving her one last glance of retribution - Lucifer slammed the door on her.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really unlike me to choose such a song for a soundtrack, but this time I just felt it deeply reflects Lucifer's primal enthusiasm in discovering sex and the joy of it. sooo... joyful song! soz :P


	8. Real Wild Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer spends the night with Mazikeen but isn't sure how he feels about it, and Eve confesses to Adam about her little advanture... This is the one i'm most proud of so far. no pun intended!

_"At the moment of conception  
I could see someone approaching  
Will you be my disco dancer?  
I could use a little coaching  
Will you be my secret lover?  
Mother, Father, Sister, Brother too_

_I was born without a conscience  
Full of freedom, full of nonsense  
From the mountains to the beaches  
Eat the apples, steal the peaches  
Will you be this wild child's lady?  
Will you carry me to safety?_

_Lock me up & take me home  
I don't want to be free."_ ['The Moment of Conception', David Byrne]

It was impossible to see with the blindfold still wrapped around her eyes, but she still knew when she was thrown on the bed and hurried to feel about, searching for the left side of it- where he's told her to stay. Once she located the edge of it, Maz held it with one hand to keep in place, and lay on her side- facing away from the center of the bed. She couldn't believe that she was in his bed, and about to spend the whole night there- and to make things ironic, it was seriously ridiculous to think that what brought her there was doing all the wrong things.

Then he slammed the door on her- opening it seconds later. "Here" he said, and something big and heavy landed on her- a quilt. It smelled good and her fingers told her that it was made of rabbit coats. Comforting. Then the door was slammed once more and Mazikeen pulled the blanket over her head and settled beneath it, waiting quietly for his return.

However, time went by and he didn't come back. It was warm and cozy under the covers and she's stopped shivering. Eventually, she felt her body relaxing and preparing to welcome slumber. The only inconvenience was the bitter taste still hanging in her mouth, but that too was dimmed by the memory of his finger on her tongue. That long, strong finger, manly- and yet soft. The way he exhaled when she was sucking on it… oh, she would have sucked on that finger forever, if he'd asked her to. She only regretted not being able to see him while she was at it… his big eyelids and his golden-brown sideburns. Thoughts turned into images, images turned into sensations- a slick wetness between her legs. She rubbed her thighs together. Was she allowed to touch herself? No, he wouldn't like that. She had to remind herself that she was a prisoner now. _His_ prisoner. Oh, how sweet the idea… Maz closed her eyes under the blindfold, wrapped the quilt around her and surrendered to sleep.

The first time she was woken was when the bed moved. A violent shake of the mattress as he sat on it. She froze in her cocoon and tensed, listening with all her senses and feeling her heartbeat racing. Boom-boom-boom. It was almost embarrassing, how loud the sound in her ears. He'd told her to sleep… she should be sleeping-

She had no way of telling how long it's been since he'd gone to wash- but the scent of him reached even into her enclosure- fresh and enticing. Breezy and lemon-like.

"Demon-Child, are you awake?" he inquired. His voice- mellower than before. Perhaps the bath-time had put him at more ease, but then Maz was determined not to reply, to pretend to be asleep. Not knowing which was the more severe form of disobedience- not being asleep, or not responding to his question.

Then- he was drinking something. Gulp-gulp-gulp- the sound of the liquid going down his throat, then, a low grunt. "Ah". Then he finally lay down and stretched on the bed on his back- she could guess- taking most of the space. _No fidgeting._ He'd said. _No moving._ So still she was. Like a stone, like a statue. Then, it was him who started shifting. First from the right side to the left. Then from left to right. This went on for a while. For quite a while. She was beginning to think none of them would ever have the chance to fall asleep again, but then he finally rested- his toes barely touching her ankle- and his body ceased to torment him. He was asleep, and she could drift into blissful relaxation once more.

But not for long.

The second time she was woken- was much worse. She was startled into consciousness by a heavy arm crashing on her chest. She stifled her scream of terror just in time- realizing he had his fingers on her, digging into her ribs over the quilt. He was moaning in his sleep. She was wide awake in seconds, wondering whether it was her duty to arouse him, to stop him from-

"Closer…" he mumbled –"Come here, Child-of-God, and I shall help you unravel all… secrets of this Garden-" he was pulling her into his arms, and the force of it was so resolute that resisting was futile. He blindfold was ripped from her face in the process, caught by the tangled of the wrinkling blanket- and for a moment she had a glimpse at the room they were in. His bedroom. Lit by candles only, cluttered with things so foreign and strange- then darkness again, for she was turned over and placed flush against his chest. Silky, milky – she wanted to lick it as his hands roamed all over her body, decisively, removing her robe-

"Master-" her breath was caught in her lungs when she spoke, but he did not seem to have heard her. The air he gave off was steaming-hot on her forehead, and his palms were sweaty as he undressed her. Hurriedly, urgently- till she was stark naked and trembling again, but not for lack of heat. "Closer-" said he and crushed her against him –"Do not fear". It was then that she noticed there was nothing noticeable below his waistline. Was he not erect or worse -not equipped? A desert. A wasteland. Barren – like everything around him. Well, this was _Hell_ indeed…

* 

A cheerful whistle sounded through the thicket of the trees and Eve's eyes glimmered frightenedly –"It's Adam… he's coming back."

"Yes." Said Lucifer –"and what are you going to tell him, my dear?"

"Nothing at all." Answered the obedient wife –"I will hug him and kiss him and make love to him, like I do every time he comes back to me."

"Suit yourself." Shrugged Lucifer, knowing the seed of horror was already planted and he went to hide among the undergrowth and he slid in the reeds and pressed his wings to his body, waiting, for he was curious and wished to witness how his plan unfolded.

Adam came beaming with a bounce to his stride, pushing the banana leaves gently aside as he emerged from the grove into the clearing and gathered his wife in his arms. "My love." He said to her and kissed her on her lips –"I had such a wonderful day!"

"Tell me, pray tell, my love." Pleaded Eve –"I wish to learn _all_ about it."

"Let us feast first." Said her husband and they both sat down on a blanket of grass and the moon and the stars bathed them in light, and the animals of the Garden served them food. The ants brought them acorns and grains and the birds laid eggs at their feet and the squirrels brought them fruit and vegetables. Adam gobbled the richness and swallowed without tasting for he was hungry, but Eve did not touch any of the delicacies for her mind was upset and her heart was heavy.

They made love under the Forbidden Tree and then Adam fell asleep, but Eve rose and she walked about the Garden and she wept as she dipped her feet in the river of Perth and so Lucifer showed himself once more.

"Save your tears." He said to her –"For up until now you have lived in the darkness, but now you know and you most of all _feel_ what _existence_ is."

Eve turned her head slowly and gazed at him with her big beautiful eyes that were filled with pain –"What is existence?" she asked softly.

"Ah." Said Lucifer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders –"It is a frail condition of terror and longing."

"Will I ever be happy again?"

"Perhaps. When your child is born." He put his hand gently on the tiny swell in her belly, intoxicated by the concept of being inside her, even when he was no longer there. 

"What… what is happening??" cried Eve, horrified- but Lucifer held her in place and caressed her neck and her spine.

"Hush now." He said, kissing her shoulders and her ear as he whispered –"temptation was always part of his game, do you not _see_?" he turned her head toward him –"The will, the craving to defy-" he licked her lips shortly –"to rebel against him-"

"I never wanted to rebel." Said Eve brokenly and a stuttered sob shook her body.

"Then why did you?" asked the Morningstar. Eve's eyes widened at him and she attempted to escape his snaking hold to no avail. His limbs were tightening around her like the tendrils of vine and his voice was in her ear once more, crawling, twisting –"You had a _choice_." He reminded her –"We all did."

"I thought…" Eve muttered in his grip –"I was wary of the tree."

Lucifer chuckled lowly –"Little starshine." Said he –"T'is only a tree. It was a test, a symbol of boundaries. But all boundaries in his realm are flexible…"

He trailed her neck with kisses. Now that he has found his sexuality, he could not stop. The hunger was a constant current in his newfound loins, and he was riding it blissfully, uncaring.

Eve moaned in his arms despite herself –"What if he sees us?"

"Who?" whispered Lucifer blindly, sucking a bruise into her breast.

"God." Said she.

"Ah, so you've stopped worrying about your husband now? Isn't that interesting." He took the nipple into his mouth and licked around it.

*

_"I behave without compassion  
I see things I want to smash them  
When I put our love in danger & treat you like a total stranger  
I don't really want to hurt you  
I would stop it if I could do…" ['The Moment of Conception', David Byrne] _

The third time she was woken was most definitely the most disastrous. It was already morning and the orange sun was harsh on her face. His tone was even harsher –"Up, you little devil!" he was standing over the bed, looking down at her as he pulled the blanket away, leaving her exposed.

"Yes, Sire!" Maz jumped to her feet and stood by the bed, dizzy. Was he mad at her? Or was he only grumpy in the morning like most?

"You enjoy disobeying me, is that the issue?" he snarled –"A little game of cat and mouse?"

"No, Sire." Replied Maz, almost swallowing her tongue. _Alright, so not grumpy, just mad. But for what reason?_

"You took advantage of my invitation." He answered the question that was never asked, his face rocks and scissors.

"I didn't-"

"Oh, but you DID." He barked at her –"I told you not to touch me."

Maz lowered her eyes and stared at the wooden floor. Blackened wood. Everything about him was black, including his heart. Nevertheless, she did touch him. She did press her nose to his chest last night, taking in his dreamlike scent… was this a test? Yes, yes, it was. And she'd failed it. She fucked it up.

"You'll be punished, again." He declared –"but not right now."

"When, then?"

Lucifer slapped her straight across her face. It certainly didn't help the dizziness, and if he had a heart he put all of it in that slap. It pained her, but more painful was the fact that she had disappointed him.

"When it strikes my fancy to do so." Said he, face needles and pins –"I have more errands to run today." Then, more practically –"You will spend today in chains, as you are obviously out of control, and I shall lock the door to the house behind me when I leave. I've removed all the knives from the kitchen. You would have to figure out how to prepare dinner without their aid."

"But, My Lord-" started Maz, her palm to her aching cheek.

"What is it, you goblin?" said he, with distain.

"Who will guard the house?"

"I think it's safe to say that that job isn't yours anymore, as I cannot trust you."

"I'm sorry, Sire." Said Mazikeen, honestly.

"Your apology is not accepted." Replied the Demon-Lord and opened his wings, they were leather again, with pointy talons on the ridges. He was beautiful, nonetheless.

"Sire, I-" She forgot what she wanted to say, for soon enough chains began forming around her wrists and ankles, long chains, that would allow her to walk around the house.

"Clearly," Said Lucifer- "This is no time for a friendly chat, so whatever you wish to say, save it for later. Perhaps I would let you speak then." He stepped towards the big window –"I've revived the gargoyles and ordered them to guard the tower whilst I'm gone. Maggot is also at the gates, in case they need more help. Try not to kill any of them, I would highly appreciate it."

But Mazikeen wasn't really listening. She was utterly confused by the fact the chains that he put on her didn't seem to be leading anywhere.

"Sire-"

"What?" he snapped, his one hand on the ledge.

"What… what exactly am I tied to?"

"Oh, that." A lurid smirk painted his lips, and for a moment he seemed proud, almost happy –"Your own _defiance_ is what you're tied to, little girl. If you try to pull some trick, the chains will tighten. An elegant spell, isn't it? See, I'm not a weaver-" he said, absent minded all of a sudden, and leaving the window in order to search for something in the first drawer of his nightstand –"but I did take a course in Black Magic back when I was young."

_Everything about him was black._

"Worked on this one all morning-" he muttered as he stepped closer to her, with something metal in his hand, that shone in the blinding sun.

"All morning…?" Wondered Maz –"What… what time is it now?"

"Almost noon. I let you sleep in. You looked like an _angel_." He laughed shortly, venom in his voice, and surprised her by placing a collar around her neck and clicking it into place before she could respond –"Here." He said –"Something _old_ to complete the picture. Been ages since I've used that one. Thank you for reminding me of its benefits." Both his hands were on her shoulders for a brief moment. A fraction of last night's memories creeped into her mind, but it was sour, and she winced.

"Don't like me touching you?" mocked Lucifer –"Good. We're on the right path, it seems." And with that, he skipped through the window and flew in zigzags towards the sun. She followed him with her eyes feeling the cool of the rusty metal against her skin, deciding that tonight was going to be different. She will cook him that supper, no matter what. She will make him proud.

*

Tell him. No, Eve couldn't tell him anything. She'd better seal her lips for the sake of her. For the sake of both of them. This morning she was not only emotionally uncomfortable, but also physically as her usually flat tummy was starting to pop out. This was why before dawn she went over to the fig tree and picked some of its biggest leaves. She fixed herself a skirt to hide her shame, and tied it right above the foreign swelling that Satan had addressed. A bump. A blob. A glob. What was lurking in her belly? What was swirling and whirling and making her lurch? Was it Satan's seed, sprouting, or just the evidence of Sin?

She was so very aware of her new appearance, wondering what Adam will say about the fact she was hiding her body. However, when she came back to him, dressed- Adam didn't even notice (and that is why to this very day men could not care less about what their wives are wearing). He was busy, as always, eating his breakfast and chattering endlessly :"Today I am going to name all the animals over the hill."

"Yes, my love." Said Eve meekly.

"And plant more honeydews-"

"Of course, Darling. Why not?"

"Also, I was thinking about riding one of the big beasts. That would get me places faster." Said he.

"Good idea. You're a genius." Muttered Eve grimly. Was she to spend an eternity listening to his barren blabbering, having him attending her only when he wanted to wet his stiffened cock. She wished to crawl into a cave beneath the surface of the Earth only to keep out of his ongoing, tiresome, pointless-

"Oh, look!" called Adam –"A sedge of cranes!" he pointed at the skies above them where a large group of water birds was spearing through the clouds, long and elegant necks pointing at their unknown destination. He was taking an excited bite off the apple he was holding, chewing loudly –"You know why I named them 'cranes'?" he asked proudly, his mouth full and spitting.

**_"Because I cheated on you with Satan."_** Blurted Eve. She never meant to say that, but as soon as the words were out in the open Adam turned red and stopped breathing. He choked and coughed on the apple that dropped to the ground from his idle hand, half-eaten, rolling into the stream. All the birds of Eden went silent and peered at them with growing fear. That fear was also spreading in Eve's limbs and in her unborn baby that started kicking frantically. She kept both hands on her belly as she rose, instinctively protecting the embryo. Her hurt husband rose as well, gasping for air. A tiny bit of the apple was still stuck in his throat like a bubble and he could not cough it out or swallow no matter how he tried (and that is why to this day the bulge in men's throats is called 'Adam's Apple').

At some point he stopped fighting that apple and pointed at his wife with the direst of looks, the most terrible and terrifying –"Damn you, Woman!" he cried, and she cringed, but could not step back. When he spoke, his voice was not his former lackadaisical croon. It was a heavy, hoarse tone of a man. A manly man. A broken man. _Her_ man.

"Whose child is it, that you carry inside of your wretched body?" he shouted. All the birds took wing and scurried away, flapping and cowing.

There. He finally knew her secret; he finally saw her- but the answer was unknown to her; for both of them- Man and Satan- filled her nights and her womb- so whose baby was it? Was it that time against the tree? Was it that time in the rippling river? Was it that time when Lucifer streamed inside her, like a waterfall? She didn't know how and when it was conceived, she didn't know nothing at all. And so she sobbed.

There was a long silence in which the trees bowed and swayed to an upcoming storm, the sky darkened and all the animals curled around themselves, huddling and mewling and whimpering quietly.

"No matter whose it is-" said Adam finally- cruelly –"You shall bring it forth in _pain_! Do you hear me? **_Pain_**." he cursed –"because that is what you deserve. And yet you will desire me and stay with me, for I am your _man_ … and you…" he straightened his spine and approached her –"shall be nothing but a slave." And so he grabbed her by her hair and dragged her behind him, kicking and screaming. Some animals dared to approach him, to comfort him, but Adam picked up a club and killed anything that was in his way. He dragged Eve into a cave beneath the Earth. 

*


	9. The Great Pretender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer seeks the advice of Loki, and Maz, as his servant, has some more trouble taking care of his house. The poor thing :P Adam and Eve get thrown out of Eden.

_"Keep you in the dark  
You know they all pretend  
Keep you in the dark  
And so it all began_

_Send in your skeletons  
Sing as their bones go marching in, again  
The need you buried deep  
The secrets that you keep are ever ready  
Are you ready?_

_What if I say I'm not like the others?  
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?  
You're the pretender  
What if I say I will never surrender?"_ ['The Pretender', Foo Fighters]   
  


  
Down, down he went, into the belly of the globe. Into the caverns underneath the Earth and into the spiraling labyrinth there- seeking advice. Seeking a friend, because he had none. And in the belly of the Earth was a secret path that only he knew of. There was a door, and a heavy lock to decorate it, and a key that only he possessed. Behind the door was a spiraling staircase that led to a hall in which there was a tree, rising from the stone and needing no water or sunlight. It was a Tree of Death and within its crooked branches dwelled a spiraling poisonous snake. The snake was eternal, and it was virulent- so vicious that it was indifferent, at it dripped its poison for no _reason_ down down upon the man-god who was bound under the tree and writhing in agony for centuries. A woman was there also. The ghost of a woman, to be exact, scraggy and listless; and she was trying to keep the blistering poison at bay by holding a bowl over the man-god's head, to let it drizzle in there. However, whenever the bowl was filled to the brim, the woman stepped away from the tree to drain it, and the venom would land on the man-god's face and burn his eyes and skin and he would scream and squirm so violently that the Earth shook like a contracting womb.

Today, however, the bowl wasn't even half full and as Lucifer stepped forward the woman gave him a wry look. "What are you searching for in this place, Your Disgrace?" she squawked. She hasn't spoken to a soul in decades and her voice was raspy from staleness.

"Only a word with your husband." Answered Lucifer and bowed awkwardly –"Just an innocent chat."

"Speak as you will." Said the gorgy woman –"but I must stay, to delay the discomfort."

"No, in fact, you do not." Answered Lucifer and with a snap of his fingers he made the bowl hover in mid air, just below the dripping poison, to collect it. The woman remained with her hands stretched out, resembling a grotesque scarecrow. "And if you reckon that you're helping him with this Sisyphean effort of yours- let me correct you, Woman." Commented The Morningstar –"He would have gotten used to the pain by now, if not for the intermissions you supply so devotedly."

"I will not forsake him" Quacked the woman.

"Go, Sygun." Said Lucifer to the woman and took both her hands in his, forcing them down into a position her muscles had forgotten long ago. They were now hanging to the sides of her body. She cocked her skeletal head in wonderment. Her sunken cheeks compressed –"What is this witchcraft?"

"It is witchcraft, like you said." Offered the Morningstar –"I cannot keep it for long, but I can maintain it for a while. Go to the corner and sleep. Rest." He ordered.

"There is no rest for the wicked." Croaked the skeleton woman.

"Perhaps, but you were never wicked, were you, my dear? Your only crime was to love your husband, and he was wicked in his days, I should agree. But not as wicked as myself."

Sigyun nodded and walked away. Lucifer was left alone with the tormented man-god who opened his green eyes to a slit due to the latest developments and watched him suspiciously.

"Hello, Loki son of Laufey." Greeted him Lucifer kindly.

"Arrgghhh!" grunted Loki and fought the bounds holding him in place- they were the bowels of his son and they were tight and uncomfortable and oozed black blood forever and ever.

"I wish to speak with you." Tried Lucifer again –"and not waste this precious time listening to you mope."

"What's there to talk about." Spat Loki and strained his neck to sit upright, to no avail –"I am doomed for my deeds as you are for yours. As all of the lot in this place, this is a final place. A finite place. So what more is there to discuss, at the end of our days?"

"Our future." Said Lucifer and took a seat on a slimy rock. He smiled faintly at Loki and brushed his sticky hair away from his face.

"Our future?" Loki laughed so hard he shuddered and nearly choked. –"Oh, my… the entertainment you provide, Your Shamelessness. I should become a fan."

"Taken away all of your faith, have they?" muttered Lucifer sadly –"Nevertheless, you were the God of Tricks once."

"If I were, then I cannot remember." Answered the Asgardian –"All I can recall is how it ended. The big war, the dead and the dying, and then my sentence which was inevitable… or so they said. I've lost… everything. Including my identity."

"As did I." agreed the Morningstar –"So you have my sympathies, Prince of Asgard, and I do not mean to be cynical-"

"What do you mean then, Fallen Angel?"

"I mean to escape."

Loki's eyes flickered, momentarily. A long forgotten glint flashed within them, chasing away the anguish –"Valhalla, you are serious." He whispered –"Escape, you say?"

"Aye, with your help." Replied Lucifer –"I used to think I knew everything, yet over the course of time my views on myself have undergone… revision."

*

_In time our soul untold  
I'm just another soul for sale, oh well  
  
I'm what's left, I'm what's right  
 **I'm the enemy**  
I'm the hand that will take you down  
Bring you to your knees_

_So who are you?_   
  


_What if I say I'm not like the others?_

_What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?_

_You're the pretender_

_What if I say I will never surrender?_

When the storm had broken over Eden, Lucifer was smart enough to take the hint. Floating as a particle within a cloud of vapour, he returned to his ascetic house in the Silver-City. God had made sure that all the angels lived in humbleness and that their chambers were simple. The place Lucifer was given was no different: it had a single bed, for resting (he didn't need any sleep), a desk for sketching with a chair beside it, and a single window overlooking the Cosmos. It was through that window that Lucifer watched the storm unfold, the rain flooding the pretty Garden, wiping out the beauty and the joy, flattening out the big trees and drowning the big beasts he's encountered there previously: the Unicorn (named so by Adam because it had one horn and was unique), The Giant Sloth (for it was lazy), and the Sabretooth Tiger (named so for obvious reasons). Lucifer could not really see into the distance, but he could sense there was mass-destruction going on. He could hear God's voice echoing inside him and through all creation once he'd located Adam and Eve- his precious children, not so precious anymore…

Eve was the first to get told off –"You had to do one thing!" boomed God –"I told you not to touch that tree!"

"I didn't touch it!" cried Eve defensively –"I never-"

"You've had SEX against it. With _Lucifer_."

"Oh, was it _that_ tree?" wondered Eve, honestly. She could now remember, how the tree shook as Lucifer was thrusting into her, and how a single fruit dropped from it and hit her on the head. That was the moment when she realized there was a certain angle in which Lucifer's cock rubbed her insides most _accurately_ , and she had hoisted her legs and hung them on his shoulders, to achieve that desired vibe- again, and again-

"And for that you shall be punished."

"Am I to be uncreated, Maker?" asked Eve, tenderly –"If you do uncreate me, would you please consider preserving the child I carry?"

"You will not be _uncreated_." Said God, a pinch of mercy crawling into his speech –"That idea sounds familiar. Who planted it in your mind, Child?"

"The Light-Bringer did, Maker."

"The Light-Bringer brought nothing upon you but darkness." Said God bitterly "You shouldn't have listened to him."

(and here, in his room, Satan was beginning to feel angry, because it wasn't true. Because it wasn't right. He had brought them the light of knowledge, and he sure did make Eve see many flashes of light and explosions, even if only in her mind's eye…)

"Do not worry about his fate." Continued God with more of his blah blah –"He will also be punished. As to you, Eve, your deeds have made you more intelligent than your partner. That alone is punishment enough. And due to your little fling, trust will never be restored between you and your husband – and he shall always suspect you. You, your daughters, and your daughters' daughters for as long as humanity exists- so good luck with that."

"But I-" started Eve.

"Ahhm, ahhm-" Adam tried to clear his throat (for ever since that bit of apple got stuck in there, he had the frequent urge to cough) –"Erm… excuse me, Maker, but do I really need to be here?" he complained –"I mean, I didn't do anything… she was like that when I got there." He pointed at Eve's swollen belly with an innocent look on his face.

"You didn't DO anything?" Oh, did God sound furious now –"What do you call abusing your wife, and treating her like _dirt_?"

"Well, technically…" explained Adam –"She's made of-"

"Flesh of your flesh!" chided God –"YOU are the dirty one! Dirt you began, dirt you are now, and dirt you shall be for all eternity. And when you _die_ , you shall become-"

"Hey, hold on a second!" Adam was waving his finger at God, because original sin had made him snotty, and if anything, it increased his initial stupidity "Who said anything about death?"

"SILENCE!" rumbled God –"You only need one glance at **_the trail of dead_** you've left behind you all the way to the cave in which you've attempted to hide from me, to know that Death is here!"

"Ohhh, you mean the animals?" Adam nodded slowly –"Well, I could eat them, I guess, so that the flesh doesn't go to waste."

"Yes, you could." Agreed God tiredly –"and in turn, they shall feast on your dead body. Now, out with the two of you! You are welcome no longer in this Garden."

"Who cares, it's ruined anyways." Noted Adam and shrugged, and then he took his wife by hand and they both walked out of Eden and into the desert that was The Land of Israel.

*

"I was young and stupid." He told Loki –"I cannot even fathom why I did these things…"

"Envy?" suggested the Asgardian and rolled his eyes –"You wanted to be the only one?"

"Yep… I believe I did."

"And now you want to escape and you reckon he will not notice?"

"He's got other things on his mind. He did not pay me any attention for thousands of years… he does not care what I do. He's never asked me if I wished to repent…"

Loki laughed and threw his head backwards in his restrains –"Your God, Lucifer… isn't he known for being a bit of a stick-up -the-arse sorta bitch?"

The Morningstar blinked and slapped Loki on his cheek –"Do not speak of him t-"

"Bahhh!" puffed Loki –"Come on, now! You _hate_ the old bastard. You seek revenge, Lou my mate, even at this point. You know he will never forgive you for what you've done… leading his darling little children astray, fucking his pure daughter-"

"I didn't mean it."

"Yes, yes you did." Insisted Loki –"It is in your nature, Lucifer- remember- I can tell when you _lie_." Loki smirked –"I can even tell when you lie to yourself."

"I certainly do not-" began Lucifer.

"Do you honestly think I care?" The Trickster shook his head –"No need to hide from _me_ , Lucy. I know what it's like to be the black sheep of the family."

Lucifer grunted and crossed his arms over his chest, his wings twitching. But Loki failed to notice the signs of the Lord's agitation, or perhaps he did not mind them, because he kept on babbling –"And the ironic side to all of it? Haha- he _designed_ you that way. He wanted all of it to transpire, somewhere deep in his sordid soul- your God almighty. Huh! Such nonsense!"

"Does your diarrhea of words ever dwindle?" Lucifer raised one dark eyebrow.

"Definitely." Nodded Loki –"Each time that damn venom burns off my tongue."

"I could see the benefits." Said Lucifer –"If your tongue is only good for retelling my own history to me, then it is a sorry waste of time, for both of us. Better burn it off then-" and he was reaching for the frozen snake.

"A waste of time!" Loki laughed so hard there were tears in his eyes –"Seriously, Lou, this is the best way I've spent my time in about a millennia." However, if you want my help you will need to get me out of here."

"I intend to." Said Lucifer solemnly.

*

Alright, so the kitchen had to be conquered. This time Maz was adamant to grant him no excuses to punish her. She was going to be a good girl. The chains, it seemed, allowed her access to whichever part of the house she desired, and except for their weight they weren’t really bothering her. If anything, their cool pull on her limbs was a sweet reminder that he owned her now. Him, and no one else. The other pets, however, were a different story. The moment she stepped into the kitchen; a ball of spit hit her nose. It was coming from above.

"Lucifer's concubine!"

"Lucifer's bucket-o-piss, is more like it!"

Mazikeen raised her head and saw to her regret that the celling and roof were still torn, and that the three gargoyles were huddled there, peering at her through the hole. 

"Can't hurt us now!"

"No, she can't! Master told her to be nice and quiet!"

She squinted her eyes at them –"Oh, I can take his punishments, but the question is- can you take mine?"

"Threatened us, did she?"

"I believe she did."

"Let us celebrate the event with a… cake!" said one of the creatures, and then he was crouching over the hole- pressing his smelly arse through the broken tiles- his tail swaying from side to side. Mazikeen dashed backwards just before a lump of poo landed on the counter. It sprayed all over the dishes and a swarm of flies- the size of apples- immediately flew in and spread all over the kitchen, knocking down the rack and shuttering all the plates.

There was definitely no cooking going on today, but there will be a little payback.

"Ha ha ha ha!" cried the demon –"Nice shot, mate!"

But the Maz picked up a fork and sent if darting through the hole. It hit one of the demons straight in the eye.

"Ahhh! Ahh! She's blinded me!" he screamed and squeaked for a long time, but after that it was an unspoken truce between them, and all she was left to deal with was the mess. Another endless battle- against the flies this time- had left her spent. She was sweeping a heap of dead flies and piling them in the corner where the kitchen met the hallway. As she wiped the sweat off her brow, she noticed the sun in the window was lowering and changing color. He will return soon, and he will be angry. Well, nothing to do about it now. She hadn't any knives to cut the vegetables and she hadn't any motivation left in her after today. Sunset was bleeding into the smog- orange and pink- and Mazikeen took as seat on a stool in the kitchen and palmed her chin, thinking. She was able to hear the gargoyles getting wasted on the roof, singing and swearing, smashing bottles- and she envied them, for their bruteness and their crudeness and their oblivion.

It was then that the doorbell rang- Ding-Dong!

Mazikeen startled upright and straightened her disheveled hair –"Who is it?" she called out, taking another fork into her hand.

"It's Death." Came a woman's voice, muffled behind the wooden door –"I'm here to deliver a package. Is your Master home?"

*


	10. Angel playing with my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one is only a build up towards Mazikeen punishment.

_"A bowling wind is whistling in the night_ _  
My dog is growling in the dark  
Something's pulling me outside  
To ride around in circles  
I know that you have got the time  
Coz anything I want, you do  
You'll take a ride through the strangers  
Who don't understand how to feel  
In the deathcar, we're alive." ['The Death Car', Iggy Pop] _

The new children were sent to the planet he's only just finished making! Lucifer couldn't believe it. This place, of all places, is where God chose to put them. The ball was _his_ toy and he'd invested so much effort in rendering it hospitable and diverse in climates and landscapes (as opposed to God's boring Garden that only had one of both) – but he did so for his own amusement. He never intended for those worthless imbeciles to set foot on his virgin soil and _spoil_ it – because spoiling was the only thing they were good for, for they were _spoiled_. Well, at least God put them in the desert, for starters. Not much damage they could do there, so there was time to prepare some nice activities and surprises and deploy them to the various parts of his planet. Satan left the window then and sat down in front of his desk. He designed volcano eruptions that would erupt abruptly; he made the waves in the oceans moody, so they would decide to well up every once in a while, tower over the land like mountains and crash upon everything with a force so mighty. He made the winds spin and dance disastrously over planes and fields; he made the snow at the top of the ridges so brittle that with the tiniest air current it would turn into a fatal white torrent. Whatever Satan designed at his desk was immediately applied to the planet hovering outside, but it was not nearly enough to express his ferocity. Next, he decided to make beasts, but these did not resemble God's friendly furries. Oh, no. They were nasty, massive lizards with gigantic teeth and talons, distorted, deformed and warped. They seemed like a mistake of some sort, disproportioned and ostensibly unfinished and he named them 'Dinosaurs' which meant 'Lizards of Horror' (to make fun of Adam and his method of name giving), and he laughed to himself aloud "Ha Ha Ha Ha!" and shook his beautiful locks.

Then the door exploded, and the walls collapsed. God was there in all his clout, and the globe of light that he was, once so generous and kind, was now but a blaze of raw magma, too terrible to gaze at.

"What have you **_done_** , Heylel?" his father thundered, and the angel was so humbled by the sound that four of his wings withered and descended into the nothingness beneath them, for the floor had disappeared as well.

"Just re…renovating…" answered Samael and felt a clamp on his jaws. For the first time in his existence, he encountered pain; and to his bewilderment it was not unpleasant.

A single ray of heat was shot from God and hit the lonely planet in full blast, sending all the dinosaurs into extinction. Just like that, _because he could_.

"Hey!" complained Lucifer, shaking with anger –"They were m… m…my pets!"

"You're not allowed any pets." His father's words burnt through his frame –"You're not **_allowed_** anything but feel SHAME for destroying a perfectly good idea."

"This isn't destruction." Dared Lucifer, acrimony on his lips –"T'is a new beginning, The Dawn of Man- see it's all in the marketing, the choice of words-" then his fists clenched and his face changed into the epitome of grief–"Why… why have you let them _live_?" too overwhelmed by his own emotions, he had forgotten his position in the hierarchy –"You've put them on _my_ planet!"

Another heat ray barreled out of God, and this time it hit the angel in the chest and made him drop to his knees unwillingly. Soon he found he could not budge, and his eyes were forced to fix on the ball of light that was his father. Once beloved.

"Your planet, as you call it," God said –"is a place I had ordered you to create for the worst-case scenario; it was always meant to be their alternative home."

"You've never told me that!" cried Lucifer, blinking at the impossible light –"You've never shared any of your plans with me, although you did say I was your right hand, did you not!? But Michael and Gabriel, they knew. How come you left _me_ in the shadows?"

"I never left you, Heylel. It was you who deserted, and the shadows were the hideout you chose for yourself. I had no _hand_ in it."

"That is… that is utter… " he was searching for the right word for some seconds before it was formed in his mind –"Bullshit!" he spat, feeling somewhat relieved –"Bullocks!" ooh, that was good –"It's a bunch of horseshit crap is what it is, father _dear_ -"

"That is quite ENOUGH!" boomed God, making him even more frustrated, because he knew now that he was not going to get any answers. Only accusations. –"Your mouth is polluted, and so is your soul. What has _become_ of you?"

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps what _you_ had in store."

"All I had in store for you, Heylel, was _free choice_."

For a moment, he was awestruck. For a second, the angel let that revelation wash over him – fresh and illuminating. What was that concept? What was the meaning of it? That he was not bound to obey? That God had intentionally made him that way? That he was free from the start to do as he willed, when actually it was God who decided to free him, knowing in advance what his choices would be and preparing for them by offering him a bait and watching him fall for it, making him dig his own hole – doing everything but physically pushing him into it. 'You know our father, always putting us to the test', Michael had said. Was he, too, a part of it? How is freedom of choice even possible, in a universe governed by a God who is all-knowing? Lucifer became more and more furious. This wasn't freedom at all. This was plain cruelty.

*

"So? How are you planning to do this?" asked Loki, grinning benevolently.

"Do what?"

"Cut me loose? Set me _free_?" The Asgardian licked his lips –"I mean, I'm supposed to stay put. Someone is bound to notice if I'm not manning my post. My beautiful wife, for starters. She's so attached to me, the miserable thing- for there was a time when I used to love her. Unfortunately, watching her crabby expression for eons didn't really help our love bloom, if you can see my point. In fact, I believe I despise her. Whenever she comes back after leaving to empty the bowl of venom, I feel like rolling my eyes, only I never have eyes at that stage of the cycle, which makes the task difficult. In any case-"

"Shut up." Said The Demon Lord and placed his hand on Loki's mouth –"If I am to free you, I need to be sure that you can help me. We're both taking a huge risk here."

"Mmhmm." Nodded Loki.

"So only vital details, if you please." Lucifer released his mouth and wiped his hand over his leather trousers. He was usually quite comfortable with wearing nothing, but the latest developments of babysitting a despicable kid and hosting a wanton servant had made him self-aware and preferring to look decent.

"Yes, yes the vitals." Agreed Loki –"Although, I have to say, Lou, but what's the worst thing that could happen to us if we break their rules? I mean, they would just send us back here, right?"

"Probably, but we cannot guarantee that." Answered Lucifer, wrinkling his brow –"I sense a change in my father's approach towards things. We must be mindful of that."

"Well, alright." The Trickster shrugged –"So here's my idea- who is the only being that's allowed in and out of your kingdom without being stalled at the borders?"

"Death." Said Lucifer without thinking.

"Indeed. The Lady of the Night comes here freely whenever she pleases, therefore-"

"Halt." He cut off Loki –"I already considered her. She would never be willing to cooperate, plus she doesn't come here because it pleases her. She comes here only when a unique case demands that she does- which is rare. She's out of the question."

"Well, then you best leave me stranded here and get back to your business." Said Loki, clearly disappointed.

"No…" said Lucifer on second thought –"Tell me what you had in mind."

Then the Trickster told him at length, and Lucifer listened and hummed in approval. From time to time Loki would mention a fact he had no way of knowing, and Lucifer would frown, then the Trickster would say –"I can read your mind, remember?" and when he was done talking and the Demon Lord was pleased, he leaned down to release him from his restraints.

"Oh, Valhalla!" moaned the Asgardian as the ties were lifted off his chest, and he was flexing his fingers.

"Sit up straight, don't make any sudden movements." Ordered Lucifer –"There is one thing to be done here before we leave."

"I couldn't even if I wanted to." Answered Loki with a beatific smile –"My head spins wildly."

"Good." The Demon Lord then turned sideways and called out –"Darren! You can come out now."

"Oh?" gazed the Trickster as the handsome boy marched in, kicking up stones as he did and swinging his arms provocatively –"What the fuck is this place?" he asked Lucifer –"'s even worse than that stupid hotel. I wanna go home, I already told you, you bastard! Fuckin' just beam me back or somethin'! and I want some food, too. I'm dead hungry."

But Lucifer ignored his remarks altogether. Instead, he placed one hand on his shoulder and addressed Loki –"You used to be a shapeshifter. Can you mimic this model?"

"Aye, I believe I can." Said Loki and began adjusting his vocal cords to the right size _'Take me home, you bastard!'_ , he tested – _'What the fuck is this stupid hotel?'_ –"How does that sound?"

"Sounds authentic enough to me." Lucifer was content.

"What the fuck… what the fucking fuck!" cried Darren and began backing up towards the entrance to the cave.

"Shhh, settle down, Child." Lucifer put his hand on the boy's head for a second, soothing and confusing him –"You stay right where you are. I do not fancy chasing you around the cave right now, and for your information- the door is sealed, so there is no point to it."

The boy blinked.

"I'll make the final arrangements while you take in his imprint." He said to Loki, and as the Trickster was saving a mental image of the boy in his collection of characters, Lucifer leaned swiftly and made a deep cut to Loki's throat with his fingernail. He was supporting his head with the other hand, to make the incision delicate and clean. Too weak to resist, the Asgardian could only cry out in surprise, whilst the boy stood there and watched, shocked.

"I only need a drop of it." Said Lucifer casually –"You don't have much left in you after what you've been through." And with that he straightened up and walked over to Darren who was shaking his head frantically and staring at Satan with eyes that were but black pools. Dismissing the obvious gestures of alarm, Lucifer used the bloody fingernail to cut the boy in the middle of his palm and stir the Demigod's essence into his bloodstream. He spoke an ancient language while he did so until the boy transformed into the mirror image of Loki- identical in every detail save for the expression of horror.

"Is that how you do it?" asked Loki with interest –"I usually prefer kissing them."

"That would be disgusting." Replied Lucifer.

"Yes, yes it would." Confirmed Loki and then grimaced –"Of course, I don't really look like that. This is a sloppy-"

"I'm afraid that you do these days, Loki."

"Aghhh. Now _that_ is disgusting!" he complained.

When the ritual was over a boy and a Satan were standing over a rock to which Loki was tied, on his back and scared to his bits, a bowl of poison hovering above his face, almost filled to the lip. 

"Reminds me of myself back when it all began." Said the boy.

"No one would know the difference." Said Satan.

"I just wonder…" the boy scratched his head, out of habit –"What has he done to deserve such a fate? I mean, it _is_ an indescribable pain-"

"Are you sorry for him?"

"Not entirely. But this is unlike you, Lucifer."

"Well, I thought so too, at first." Admitted the Demon-Lord –"but he is a tainted child, a spawn of Evil. And after all, this is only temporary."

"Temporary? You mean…" gulped the kid –"No, you don't mean it! I'm not going back there!"

"We'll see about that. Come away now."

And as they both ascended the spiraling steps, Lucifer called over his shoulder –"You can get back to work, Sigyn!"

*

"Knock-Knock!" Death's voice was cheerful behind the front door and Mazikeen pressed her right palm to the surface from the other side and checked the spyhole gingerly, startled to discover a prettily made-up eye starting right back. She was quick to shut the lid.

"I come in peace." Reassured Death –"Now, will you kindly get your lazy Master to the door? I'm sure he'd rather sleep the pain away, but unfortunately I got my hands full here and I cannot commiserate at the moment."

"What… what do you mean by _pain_?" Maz could not resist asking.

"I mean his inability to forgive himself for failing. Doncha know what it sounds like?"

Mazikeen was silent.

"Well, if you don't know, girlie, I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." Death said kindly, thoughtfully.

But before Maz could figure out what this was about or ask anymore questions, there was noise coming from the roof as one of the gargoyles stepped towards the ledge –"Save your breath, Sugar-Pie!" he'd said to Death –"His Lordship isn't home and he locked the door!"

" _Locked her in! Locked her up!/ All alone with flies and crap!"_ chanted the two other drunken gargoyles, breaking more tiles- by the sound of it- as they cavorted around the shaky roof. _These gargoyles will be the death of her._

"Well, that's inconvenient." Remarked Death and as Maz peeked through the spyhole for the second time, she could see a foxy lady dressed in blacks, rummaging through her pockets in search of something. That in itself seemed curious, since the pants she was wearing were so tight, Maz could find it hard to believe there was room for anything in there.

"Now, let's see what the protocol says about leaving a package at the doorstep when owner is away- hmmm-" Finally Death pulled a lengthy piece of parchment out of her pocket. She unrolled it and was frowning as she read it –"Says here someone would have to sign for it, which isn't helpful."

"I'll sign for it!" called one of the gargoyles.

"Thanks, Gaudium, but you can't read. You'd have to know what you're signing on-" muttered Death bitterly and stuffed the parchment back into her pocket –"Hey, what happened to your eye?"

"Bitch happened to my eye, is what!" spat the gargoyle and through the spyhole Maz saw him fluttering heavily downwards, until he landed on the horse's back. Said horse was apparently there all along and Maz wondered how come he did not protect the tower like he was supposed to, but then she saw Death put her hand on his muzzle and understood. The animal _was fond_ of her, and he was pushing lightly into her caress, like a puppy. Behind Lady Death was an odd orb that floated in mid-air, and inside it something was moving, but Maz could only see the fringes of it and did not know what it was, though she could tell it was _big_.

"Well, I'm sure you've given her a good _reason_ to do what she's done." Said Death and then turned towards the door while still stroking the horse, given Maz a significant look as if she could see her. Maz hurried to close the hatch for the second time, determined to rely on her hearing alone from now on.

"Only what she deserved!" said the gargoyle defensively –"She killed us all on her first day!"

"Just coz she didn't like your face, I'm guessing?" Death was laughing. Her laughter- bells and bubbles in the breeze- like a melody.

"I mean, no, but-"

"It's okay, Gaudium." Said Death –"You're lucky that your Master is so- - Oooh! Speak of the Devil."

*

_"And when I think that I'm alone  
It seems there's more of us at home  
It's a multitude of angels  
And they're playing with my heart_

_I must be hallucinating  
Watching angels celebrating  
Could this be reactivating  
All my senses dislocating  
This must be a strange deception  
By celestial intervention  
Leavin' me the recollection  
Of your heavenly connection" [ 'There Must be an Angel', Eurythmics] _

Lucifer was flying with the boy in his clutches, racing against the sunset, and dreaming about coming back to a hot bath, a hot meal and the hot body of his servant – thinking there was no way she was going to mess it up this time- when he spotted Death's car parking near the obsidian tower. Figures, too many figures, were gathered on his doorstep. Death, the gargoyles, the horse, and a huge ball of water with something swimming inside.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked Loki, slowing down and tightening his grip to the point of pain.

"Ah..! Ahhhh! I don't know, Lucifer, cut it out!"

"Did you summon her?" growled the Lord over the swishing wind.

"What?!" Loki shouted back –"How would I summon her? I was with you the whole time! And anyways, that last bit of magic that was left in me was dedicated to your little ruse! Speaking of which, being in this boy's skin really is degrading."

"It's essential." Said Lucifer –"You need to _be_ him, not just play. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, I get it."

"What should we do, Asgardian? It's too early to execute our plan."

"I agree."

"I didn't expect her here." Lucifer's lips were puckering, his hands in turn were digging into Loki's ribs and got him howling.

"For Odin's sake! Stop squeezing! I'm only a kid."

It was then that Death noticed them –"Speak of the Devil…" she said, smiling. _Death was always smiling._ They landed on the crass terrain and the kid was thrown out of Satan's hold, lost his balance and rolled forward, ending up with his face in a pile of horse manure.

"I see you two are getting close." Said Death, amused.

"I have to carry him with me wherever I go." Lucifer gritted through his teeth and picked up the boy by his collar, shoving Death with his shoulder as he stepped towards the front door –"No thanks to you."

"Well, if you can't find it in your poor little heart to punish him, Lou, then it's on you." Said Death, and then –"How are you holding up, Darren?"

"Fuck you." Said the boy and Lucifer slapped him out of instinct. Once he was able to get the door open using his key, he kneed the boy in the back to urge him into the house and called out –"Mazikeen! Come here!"

His servant emerged out of the shadows, and to his discontent- she was a mess. Her hair sticking up, her face and body stained with dirt and a long slash across her arm- caused by God knows what. Her chains were indeed intact, but that was the only thing in order. Everything else was a catastrophe, and on top of all that- she _smelled_. So much for the quiet evening he was longing for. He'd have to punish her once more.

"Here." He snapped and pushed the boy into the girl's arms, almost making her topple over –"Get him washed and put him in one of the guests bedrooms. Lock him inside."

"But Sire, I-" started Mazikeen. Lucifer slammed the front door on both of them and turned back to Death, who was stroking his horse absent-mindedly.

"Rough day?" said she.

"Save it, Cousin." Barked Lucifer –"What do you want in this place? Twice the same week?"

"Oh, you know, just business."

"What business?"

"Well, you better take a look. That should spare me a lot of explaining- TADA!" Death spread her arms and gestured towards the giant ball of water behind her. Inside it, a 30 feet long creature was imprisoned, with no room to spare. A magnificent beast, a gentle giant, a-

"A WHALE?" gasped Lucifer –"What's a whale doing in Hell?" he was astonished –"Since when are animals evil?"

"Since this one, I guess." Death shrugged.

"What's next?" barked Lucifer –"Evil furniture? Will you be delivering tables and chairs?"

"Hey, calm down." Death's smile was erased off her face –"I only do what I'm told to, so stop giving me a hard time about it, alright? It's a whale, and it's your problem now."

"What am I supposed to do with it?!"

"Oh, I dunno." She was already walking to her car, he- trailing behind –"Put it in the Lake of Fire? The Ocean of Lava? The River Styx?"

"It's not human!" cried Lucifer –"It doesn't long for suffering! It can't even speak!"

"Yeah, well… beats me." Death opened the door to her vehicle –"It's evil. Tainted by humans and caught the human spirit. Killed 4 of its trainers-" she got into the driver's seat –"and some tourists. Breached out of its pool and bit off their gentiles. Ate their arms and legs. They were still alive, you know. Did it only for fun, or revenge." She closed the door and rolled down the window, grinning –"Anyways, if God says this is evil, then it's evil. You know how it is… please don't put that beast in your house too."

"I won't."

"Seeya, Lou."

*

Lucifer remained put until Death's car was out of sight, then the water bubble exploded, the water poured and hissed as it hit the steaming sand and the giant creature thrashed about as it fell into the dunes.

"Take it away!" Lucifer ordered the gargoyles –"To the Lake of Fire."

"It wouldn't be big enough-" said Gaudium.

"I don't care. Do as I say!" he was angry, opening the front door and slamming it behind it he called out again –"Mazikeen!"

"Yes, Sire. I am here, My Lord." The girl shuffled close, bowing her head.

" _What_ have you _done_?" he said coldly, hardly containing himself.

"Oh, I put the boy in one of the guests' room, like you said, I washed him before I did-"

"That is not what I mean." Said Lucifer and placed his hand around her throat, feeling a vein dancing under his forefinger and breathing deeply through his nose, so to not crush the delicate neck. Not like that. Not yet.

" _What_ have you done with your time alone in the house?"

"Sire, I-" Mazikeen breathed. He could feel the air passing, with some difficulty, under the pressure he was giving. He could see her eyes half-closing in submission. That simply pushed him to add more pressure.

"Did you _cook_ for me?" he asked, touching his nose to hers.

"No… Sire, I couldn't, because-"

"What a terrible mistake." He drawled, releasing her, watching her stumble to the floor and clutching her neck, taking in huge, hysterical gulps of air.

"Don't overdo it." He suggested and walked over to the kitchen, filling a glass with tap-water. –"Whenever you're out of breath, just inhale slowly, measurably." He stepped toward her and offered her the glass –"Drink this, then wash yourself and see me in the lounge for your punishment."

"Punishment, Sire?" Maz held the glass with a quivering hand.

"What else did you expect? Praise?" Lucifer laughed –"Ten minutes, don't be late." And he pushed her into the guest bathroom and closed the door on her.

*


	11. For Reasons Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer whips Maz, coz he likes it :P

**_"_ ** _Coming down from on high_ _  
Crippled wings, X's for eyes  
And the clouds are screaming headlines across a tabloid sky  
  
This isn't me, It's just a joke  
All this breathing makes me choke  
And I hang like a puppet skeleton on twisted wires  
  
She's the mistake I've been dying to make  
Since I can remember  
Golden arrow, Straight to the marrow  
Older than flame  
She is the drug I've been dying to take  
Forever and ever  
I'm hooked and helpless  
Tangled and hopeless  
Floating away." _ **_['She's The Mistake', Firewater]_ **

Lucifer waited. For the first three minutes he was contemplating whether to remove or keep his wings for the upcoming activity, finally deciding to keep them on. For the next two minutes he was having a similar dilemma- this time regarding his trousers- and finally decided to keep them on, too. For the next three minutes he was chatting with his gargoyles through the hole in the ceiling:

"No, you cannot stick around and watch."

"But Your Lowliness," begged one of them –"You said to _watch the house_." Then the three monsters laughed.

"I am serious." Said the Demon-Lord –"And if I ever had a sense of humour, I lost it when it occurred to me that my kitchen smells suspiciously like your feces; A most particular scent that I regretfully came to know well."

Silence from above. Then the gargoyles' faces were no longer framed by the edges of the hole. They moved away into the darkness, and the moonlight replaced them ere long.

"Let's go hang in the stables, guys." Said Gaudium to the other two, and then their voices were swallowed by the cries of the hollow-eyed owl and the yowls of the many tortured souls. Good. He did not want anyone else around when he was giving punishment, because it wasn't a show. It was a liturgy, and it was sacred.

The typical chill of the night was skulking into the house and sauntered into its most distant corners. It was really time that he fixed that hole, but other things kept him engaged, thus for the time being he settled for moving back into the lounge, where the fire was burning in the hearth.

For the last two minutes before deadline Lucifer was dreading. He was dreading because it's been ages since he's done something of the sort, and there was a good chance he wasn't as skilled and polished as he used to be, which made him edgy. But then two minutes had gone by, followed by another two minutes, and he became edgy for different _reasons_ altogether. _She was late. Again._

The Morningstar walked over to the bathroom and flung the door open, finding Mazikeen standing in a wet patch in the middle of the floor and battling with her chains and a robe she was trying to wear, to no avail.

"Why are you delaying?" he demanded, but the question wasn't harsh since he could see for himself that she got tied up. So to speak.

"Apologies, My Lord." Maz shook her head miserably –"I couldn't figure out how to put it on, since I'm wearing these chains-"

"Did I ask you to get dressed?"

"No, Sire."

"Then why are you doing it?"

"I didn't want to leave marks on your floor, Sire."

"How considerate." Remarked Lucifer, and for a change he was not being sarcastic. _The girl had some sense in her, after all._ "Come along, now."

They both strode together to the lounge, but she was shaking from the cold, which slowed her down. –"Do not worry." Said Satan –"We'll get you warmed up soon. Now stand next to the fireplace, your back to me, hands on the wall." Even listening to himself say that made him nauseous; because he was too worn out to even bother coming up with something original. Something new. Instead, he was doomed to repeat the same old routines for all eternity, and it stifled him. Once it was nice, he'll admit, when it was simply a controversial method to unwind. An uncharted enclave to research – the boundaries of pain and control, or lack thereof. He was careless back then, raw. But now jaded, all he could think of was placing her against a wall. They might both die out of boredom before the punishment began. He was rolling his eyes when Maz obeyed his recent order and came to stand behind her, taking both of her hands in his and positioning them flat against the board, where he wanted them.

"Higher." He said –"Hands always to the sides of your head, or above it. Never below." He explained –"You will lose your balance at some point; you need something to hang onto. I don't want you dropping to the floor."

"Yes, Sire."

But he did not let go of her right away. He was feeling her hands, rough, under his, torrid and ductile at the same time. The hands of a warrior. _His own, private warrior. At his command._ The idea was refreshing because all his other servants were pathetic at best and here… she was. Well, something else.

"Were they difficult to handle?" he spoke against her neck.

"Who, Sire?"

"The gargoyles."

"I would have killed them again, Sire, but you've told me not to."

He felt her tensing in his hold. Was this anger? Oh, yes. Good anger. Palpable anger. Something to work with. And all of a sudden this punishment had a purpose, that wasn't sole retribution. He was going to toughen her up, and therefore the originality of the drill was no longer relevant.

"I'd like you to know that I am not going to punish you for failing to cook for me."

"Thank you, Sire." Said the demoness, relief in her boyish voice.

"I am, however," (she tensed again) –"going to punish you for letting my gargoyles crack your confidence and break your spirits. We're talking about gargoyles here. A primitive and ignoble form of existence; while you, Mazikeen, are the child of the first warrior-woman alive and grandchild to God." As soon as he said it, he could sense the words sinking in –"I will not have you questioning yourself due to some negligible harassment."

"Yes, My Lord. I understand, My Lord."

"Excellent."

Then, by cause of miscalculation of the distance between them, or because he merely wanted to- Lucifer brushed his nose against her nape, just over the collar- seeing the skin there peppering with red, for her body enjoyed the gesture, be it intention or error.

He let go of her then, and went on to drag his tool-case into the middle of the room. There was not much there he wanted to use. Most instruments were not to his liking anymore. The gags, for instance, were terrible. He wanted to hear his servants, to communicate with them, and the gags made them sound as though they were suffering from some form of malfunction in the brain. A severe one. And anyways, a servant drooling over a gag was never a pretty sight. He tossed all of them into the fire.

He fumbled through the rest of the content- most metal things were rusty or broken, but the good old stock-whip was still useful. He picked it up with a current of nostalgia running through his veins. The handle was eroded, and the shape of his own fingers was beautifully imprinted on the wood, the memory of one hundred thousand lashes, burnt to the core of their generator. The memory of blood. And sweat. And tears.

He placed the whip on the mantlepiece – still packed neatly in a coil- and sighed when he saw her trying to assess her situation out of the corner of her eye, to get an idea of what was going on behind her back. 

"If I catch you looking again, you won't like the ramifications." He promised.

"Yes, Sire. I'm sorry, Sire."

"It would only promote panic, which we don't want." He muttered as he pulled out more items out of his tool-case. This time, it was a heavy hammer and a handful of nails- which he stored in the right pocket of his trousers. –"We could use a blindfold again, of course-" he added –"But I believe I'd rather see your eyes this time."

He returned to his servant, happy to see she wasn't cold anymore; and on this rare occasion- generally chuffed to a reasonable extent. Something about knowing and planning ahead, about the _order_ in the procedure, had made him placid and put together.

"A decent punishment," he said –"isn't about status or superiority." He was leaning over her to nail her cuffs to the wall next using nine-inch nails and secure the holes in the chains to the wooden surface. She couldn't move any part of her upper body save for her neck. The idea in itself was mesmerizing, and the closeness made him somewhat giddy; so he hummed to himself as he hammered down the nails and bent their heads around the loops of the chains –"It's about helping you control yourself."

"Yes, Sire." Said Maz.

He stepped back to make sure that both sides were even, and learnt that they were- but there was something even more tantalizing in the picture he'd crafted: Her face was flat against the wall and the backside of her beautiful body on display. He was genuinely enjoying the view, knowing he could have touched her, he could have fucked her senseless- but this wasn't about sex. With the hammer in one hand and the other already tingling with the desire to grip the whip, he lingered for some minutes.

"My Lord?" his servant broke the silence, a note of insecurity in her voice.

"Are you rushing me into it, little goblin?" he was almost amused –"We've got all night ahead of us. The morrow too, if the need should arise."

Then he moved in again, taking hold of her head and setting it where he wanted it. Her hair was soft and very straight. Not a single knot in it, and its tint of indigo was shining in the firelight, like the cool water of the river Styx.

"Don't be frightened." He muttered –"T'is only noise at this point. However, if you try to move I might miss, so hold still." And with that he hammered two more nails into the wall through the base of the collar. These last two had no holes designated for them and so the nails had to drill their way in. It took some time and more accuracy than he had, and one time he did miss and hit his own thumb instead. Nevertheless, it was worth it, because with each fall of the hammer Mazikeen shut her eyes tightly and fought her restrains, and it was awakening the hunter in him. When he was done he tossed the hammer into the case and picked up the whip with a shaky hand. A shaky hand was no good for whipping; he needed to relax.

"Next is pain." He declared.

"I know, My Lord, I've been whipped before."

"Oh, have you?" he was surprised for a fracture of a second, because there were no marks on her skin to suggest such treatment in her past. Then again, not everyone used the whip like he did, and so he corrected himself –"Yes, of course you have. But not in this manner."

"Whatever do you mean, Sire?"

"I mean they've only whipped you to put you in your place, to detain and to depress you- whoever they were."

"My father-"

"Was merciful." Completed Lucifer –"Whereas I use pain in a more… permanent way." He had uncoiled the old whip, and he was sliding it between his fingers, testing its durability –"The pain is only there to help you focus on what's really important." He continued as he flexed his device of discipline– though he liked nice things, this one was plain leather, made of hyena skin and rigid- for it hasn't been used or oiled in a long while. "It will help you think about what you did, and what you may become."

"I understand, Lord." Said Maz, not showing any signs of resistance. Noble. _Extremely noble._

His heart was racing, for no reason; then, for no reason he swooped in to taste her lips- Ah, honey and thick spittle- the only thing that tasted like anything around Hell was another person, and even that only happened if they were unsullied. In this place, she was chaste. Though he knew she's killed many, her essence was just and free of sin. In this place, she was _pristine_.

A moment of bliss. But then he was instantly cross with himself, for that rash kiss. Fueled by his own qualms, he leapt backwards and raised his arm, as far as it could go, and landed the first blow. The whip splayed across her back so gracefully, and the sound of it slashing through the air was golden. A sharp, solid hit that left a thin line of crimson- so delicate between her shoulder blades. A matching rush of blood to the head almost made him tumble, but he was just warming up. 

' _How are you doing?'_ he'd wanted to ask, because he could not see her face from this angle and apart from exhaling, she did not make any noise- but decided against it at the very last moment. The second blow was harder and it licked her ear, not a spot meant for whipping, but the flux it brought to his nerves was exquisite and it quelled all _reason_. He was but a tool in the hands of Hell, channeling havoc into the tool in his hand –"A proper whipping," he grunted, his voice a tad deranged –"connects Master and slave with invisible tethers. A shock wave-" the third blow landed just above her buttocks, making her spasm in her chains –"of electricity that welds them together. Do you know what electricity is, little goblin?" the fourth blow finally broke the skin, and the sight of blood excited him further. Although this wasn't about sex, the rod behind his pants came to attention. If he was going to spill it better be inside her, or not at all. Honestly? He'd lost count after the fifth blow. Suddenly it became a steady flow of swings and lashes, with each bounce of the thong off her back sending him ricocheting into the next blow, with momentum. His lips were pursed, his teeth clenched, and for a while there was nothing ever, nothing at all but the sticky sound of the whip's caress. Meditative. Metronomically melodic. This was **_music_** \- 

"Ah-" another sound was heard and it disrupted the beauty, breaking the resonating rhythm. It was the sound of her sighing and Lucifer hesitated with the whip in his sweating palm, perplexed.

"What's wrong?" he inquired, not a hint of sarcasm in his tone –"We're not done here."

"I… I know, Sire." Said Maz breathily, pressing her cheek to the wooden wall –"I just… I need to urinate, My Lord."

Even from where he was standing, Lucifer could see the blush creeping up her cheekbone. He was both pleased and displeased as he fetched a wooden bucket, then stood behind her and kicked her legs further apart, positioning the bucket on the floor between them –"Here." He said stiffly –"This should do. Although I'd rather you held it in, but there is a place and time for everything."

"I-"

"Do it." He ordered –"I'm waiting."

"You best look away, Sire." Mumbled Mazikeen, half-awake, half hazy under the power of his domination. Oh, how endearing. –"You wouldn't want to watch."

He did remember well the amount of energy and the drag that was involved with keeping such slaves; but he has forgotten the enormous thrill that was the award. And now, right now, he was getting a tinge of it once more. And it was to _die_ for.

"Oh, I'll be watching you alright." Said Lucifer –"Go ahead. You can do it by yourself, or I could encourage you with some more whipping."

"T'is alright." Said Maz –"I think I can do it." And she closed her eyes, slowly, as a few droplets left her body and fell to the bottom of the bucket. Lucifer swallowed, his burning eyes locked on her as the droplets turned into a trickle, then a stream, and then a sigh of relief left her pretty mouth. Transfixed and mute he followed the after-chills that shook her spine, the whip in his hand suddenly useless. This wasn't planned for, and if it was, it was made to drive him over the edge. He's had servants pissing in front of him before, but never with such naturalness, never with such modesty. There would usually be a long period of negotiation, and begging, and a heavy feeling attached to it. Not here. The child from the Land of Eternal Night didn't make a fuss out of pissing in public, and he could even picture her crouching whenever she needed to go – back at her home- and watering the bushes with her fluids. His dick was out of the den and stirring in his pants. He, too, had to go, only his call was a different call. Suddenly he was the prisoner of his own schemes.

Overcome by his compelling lust, that blurred all of his judgement- The Morningstar wished Maz's chains loose, and they all dropped to the floor.

"Sire?" again, she was confused and retained her position against the wall, although no chains were holding her there anymore.

"Bathroom." Said he –"Wash yourself and see me in my bedroom in ten minutes. You'll be staying with me tonight. I'm sure you remember the rules."

-"But-"

"No buts!" And with that he batted his wings and flew up the spiraling staircase, kicked the door open and crashed on the bed on his back, reached into his pants and rubbed his dick like a lunatic.

*


	12. Misery loves Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy tortures Maz even more. Doesn't need a reason.

**Chapter 12- Misery loves Company**

_"Babe, there's something tragic about you""_

_Something so magic about you  
Don't you agree?_

_Babe, there's something lonesome about you  
Something so wholesome about you  
Get closer to me_

_No tight side, no rolling eyes, no irony  
No 'who cares', no vacant stares, no time for me_

_Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago  
Idealism sits prison, chivalry fell on it's sword  
Innocence died screaming, honey ask me I should know  
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door" ['From Eden', Hozier] _

This was her second bath today and the practice was beginning to become arduous. Back home she used to bathe perhaps once every two weeks, and it was always a happy, tranquil time to float in the lake and brood. On regular days she would plainly be satisfied with washing between her legs; while in this house everything had to be in fine-tune with the obsessions of the Master who had a predilection for the _ideal_ state of things. All in all, she didn't mind keeping herself clean for him, only she could not tell how clean was clean enough and the endless pursuit for sanitation seemed insane, and a lost cause in general. Secondly, the water in the barrel was too hot during the day and icy during the night- which made bath time a living Hell, and thirdly all the soaps stung her skin and made her itchy. If he ever lets her speak her mind, she will definitely say something about it.

_What if he never lets her speak?_

Mazikeen shook that last thought off, because it was scary, inconceivable. She eyed the barrel with hostility for a long moment, remembering the freeze and burn it held and hating it. Of course, there was no point in responding emotionally to an inanimate object. If she was to hate anyone, it had to be him. _No, she will never, ever hate him._ He was only rational about the whole thing. First, he suspected she was a traitor, because she was Lilith's daughter, and Lilith was a two-faced bitch – everyone knew that. Even Adam, the legend said, could see right through her, and he was an idiot. And then, her Master presented her with challenges. He wanted to test her strength, her wisdom and her loyalty, to see if she was worthy of staying with him. These were all but trials- nothing more. It was all very _reasonable_. Logical. And someday the trials will end, and she would not only be allowed in his bed but also –

_No. She mustn't dream of it._

How much time did he give her? Ten minutes again. Maz had no way of telling the time, but she had already developed a method of getting a loose idea of it. 30 seconds was the time it took the slow loris to chew on a mantis, back home. 2 times 30 was sixty seconds, according to her estimation. She would picture the loris eating the mantis and replay it over and over, a total of 20 times in her mind. Sometimes she would lose count, and on other times she would recall there was no use to it all because time moved in warps in this place. Nevertheless, keeping some sort of track gave her a sense of control. Right now, three minutes were already gone, and she wasn't interested in wasting any more. With her mind made up, she placed her hand on the edge of the barrel, and then leapt like a puma over the brim, jumping in, letting the icy water engulf her whole body. Against herself, a yelp escaped her mouth and she was swift to dive under the surface to dim it- the water overflowed and splashed all over the floor. It was very cold, horridly cold- but washing each body part separately would have been much worse. Yet, she felt her lungs tightening in protest and breathing became hard. It was a matter of seconds before she knew she had to get away. Mazikeen put her hands on the margins of the barrel and pulled herself upwards. She needed all her strength for that because the water made her heavy, and it seemed to be sucking her back in! On the verge of panic, she kicked the side of the barrel and smashed it. The water broke and spilled all over the bathroom and she was carried with it and puked onto the wet floor, where she lay like a freakish embryo for some moments, just to catch her breath. When she was up on her feet again every movement was a battle. Her muscles insisted on quivering when she had needed them to obey her unpretentious wish, which was to walk. And then, there was this puzzle again- whether to cover herself or not. When she offered to be naked, he wanted her dressed, and when she dressed, he wanted her naked. Even thinking about it was too much for her at the moment, plus she figured a trip to the bathroom closet in her state would just steal more time. "I am not done with you." She said to the broken barrel, just before she left the bathroom; faltering forwards, to begin the long journey to her Master's bedroom.

*

After dragging herself up the stairs and opening the door with some difficulty (her fingers were achingly stiff) she stood before him shivering, her teeth clanking uncontrollably and her hands stoned. She couldn't feel her fingers or her toes, but despite her sorry situation she _knew_ for certain that his hand was entombed in his pants when she entered. What was he doing there? Surely not touching himself. She already knew there was nothing there to touch, and if there was, it was either tiny or impotent. Was he, perhaps, trying to get it up? Was he doing that for her? Was he doing that _because_ of her?

Lucifer turned his head in response to the sound of the creaky door opening- "You're blue!" he cried. His pale completion became even paler as he stood up and quickly moved the button through the hole, to close his pants of mystery. –"BLUE!" this was an accusation, and Mazikeen lowered her eyes, because that is what servants do when they get yelled at.

The rabbit-skin quilt, the one from last night, was thrown over her shoulders. His orange eyes were fiery and severe –"What have you done, goblin??"

"I.. w…wwaa…washed.. my…selllff…" she had no control over her lips and her teeth were rattling.

"How?!" barked Lucifer.

"I… j..j…jumpe…d…into…the…ba…ba….barrr-"

"Jumped into the barrel? For what _reason_ , you brat!" above everything, he sounded astonished.

"Di…dn't… didn''tt… ha hhavv.. havvv… timmmme-"

"Didn't have time?! It's only been two minutes!" he began rubbing her shoulders over the blanket, but it was harsh and hurried, like steel-wool scrubbing a stain.

"I all…all…ssooo… brrrookkke'it-"

"You broke it?"

"I… cou…dn'tttt…..gettttouttt-"

"You seem to be in charge for a fair amount of _damage_ in this house."

"I'mmmm sssorrry,-"

"Oh, you silly little girl." Said the Demon-Lord, no fondness in his voice, just disappointment. He released her shoulders. Where his hands had been before, were now two imaginary pyres, and they were both ablaze –"Do you not get it? Everything around his bears danger. EVERYTHING." And with that, he wrapped his arm around her, but only for a moment. This wasn't a hug, only an aid, to get to the bed. He tightened the blanket around her and while doing so, he was hovering close. She could see the curve of his shoulder blurring her vision, and the twist of his mouth as he concentrated. Was he worried?

"My Lord, I am sorry." Said Maz, her life force returning bit by bit.

"I do not care for it." Replied Lucifer and moved away, to his side of the bed. –"I had great expectations out of you, Mazikeen, but your actions of late imply that you're just like the rest of them."

That hurt. But more painful was the fact he was upset. She didn't want him to be upset.

"Sire, I am so-"

"Will you stop apologizing!?" he snapped –"It means nothing to me, Mazikeen. Go to sleep. No more talking tonight."

Again, no explanations. She couldn't hope for any. She probably didn't deserve them. She was an elephant in a field of butterflies, and wherever she turned, an accident occurred. She'd killed all and everything. Damaged. _She was damage_ , and -

And then, there was the burn. Once her body was warmed up and the blood flow returned to normal, everything was just heat upon heat. Her skin was melting and all her wounds came alive- the chafing marks on her wrists and neck and the cuts on her back, pulsating and practically boiling her. As she was sweating under the blanket, Lucifer was sitting on the edge of the bed, and like last night he was drinking something- gulp, gulp, gulp. For a long moment silence stretched in the room. It was the first time she noticed how _quiet_ it was in his chambers, and how the cries of agony – a constant background noise that provided the soundtrack of Hell- were not heard within these four walls. It was so eerily peaceful she could have sworn that her hair was making noise as it rose and flattened minutely with her breathing.

"How are your wounds?" asked her Master with dry interest.

"Which ones, My Lord?"

"I'm talking about the lacerations on your back, Demon; calling the other uneasiness 'wounds' would be a little far-fetched, don't you agree?"

"Yes, Sire."

"So?" Lucifer turned towards her and his eyes were flashing in the candlelight, yet his face seemed a tad more serene than before.

"So what, My Liege?" she asked with bemusement, because the beauty of his face simply had that effect.

"How are they?" he repeated.

"Oh, they burn, Sire."

"Of course they do." said he, seemingly to himself –"We'll have to tend them. I don't want you fidgeting and keeping me up because of _your_ injuries."

"I unders-"

"On your stomach. Head on the pillow." He ordered, and she was quick to perform the task; but as she shifted the pain in her back was revived, sending yet another jolt of blistering heat through her nerves. Then the blanket was ripped off her. Ripped, because it had already stuck to the clotting blood and the separation proved to be grody. At the same time, the touch of cool air on her skin was welcome and it somewhat mollified the sting.

"As expected, they are already infected." Said Lucifer rigidly –"Things like that happen fast around here. If only you hadn't-" he trailed off as he brushed her hair away from her neck.

"If I hadn't what, Master?"

"Made me remember." Said he, leaving the ambiguity hanging there and fetching the bottle from the nightstand. The one containing the same liquid he was consuming before. "This is going to hurt." He warned.

But the warning was ineffective in matching the very intensity of it. As the fluid was applied to the wounds, the pain skyrocketed; and it ignited her spine like a torch and made her screech like a monkey. She bit hard into the pillow and clung onto it because her instincts told her to turn around and bite _him_. Tears welled up in her eyes and the pain refused to recede. If anything, it redoubled.

"Oh, don't you break on me now, Child." Said Satan and put away the bottle. –"The hard part is behind you". He moved in then to swing one leg over her and sit on her upper thighs, holding her in place. –"It will go away in a short while, just ride it out. I'm sure you can take it."

But she wasn't sure of it at all. She had been stabbed before, beaten before, burnt before-but nothing felt as horrible. One time a tent collapsed on her leg and fractured a bone in her ankle. That was the most painful, until tonight. It had her paralyzed, had her wishing her leg to be severed. One of the old ladies of the Lilim had then soaked her ankle in honey and said to her 'You children strut as if you were invincible. Getting your bones twisted and gobbling my time when I should be curing the ill and delivering the women in labour. Ah, you are damage, girl. You draw damage to yourself, and you will reap damage someday.'.

Mazikeen sobbed into the pillow quietly, but it wasn't for the pain.

"Here, shhh," muttered Lucifer and leaned closer, blowing over her searing wounds with his mouth. And suddenly she had no thoughts or feelings. Her eyes rolled in their sockets and her screech of pain turned into a series of low moans. Alleviation percolating through her, she was just his. His to play with. His to hurt and to heal… But then there was something else. She could notice it even through the fogginess. Something hard. A stick. A prick, a _Dick_!. Poking her behinds. Was she only dreaming it? And what was the reason…? Men liked being in control, it got them hard, she knew that. And she was a hard woman to control, that was also a fact. But-

"Already high?" marveled the Morning Star –"Well, I guess the liquid could do that, if it's your first time." And then he took away his body. She wanted to scream, but couldn't. she was limp.

"But your wounds will heal by morning." He said –"So that's done. Stay on your stomach for the night." The blanket was thrown on her again.

"Sire…?"

"What is it?"

"How come your room is so quiet?" she asked, feeling drunk.

"It wasn't always so. In fact, it's a new development. I just couldn't stand the noise anymore. I got it taken care of. What's it to you?"

"Nothing." Said Mazikeen, rolling her hips against the mattress.

"Cut that out." Said Satan.

"Or what?" dared Mazikeen.

"Or your next punishment will be a dip in the Lake of Fire, would you like that?"

"No, Sire." Said Maz, defeated.

"You're under the influence of the drug I gave you. You're acting stupid. Go to bed-"

"Yes, Sire."

*

Then he got into bed and he tossed and he turned for a long time. She was so busy listening to his movements that her mind was taken off her own ordeal. When he finally settled, Mazikeen closed her eyes and slept a light and torn sleep. She woke to the sound of him moaning.

"Ahh… can you taste it? Taste it."

His words made no sense, but this time she feared he was testing her again. She did not respond. She remained frozen – he climbed on top of her, this time she was sure there was a valid thing between his legs. And he was using it.

"Give into me, yes-" he pushed once, then fiddled with his trousers. Mazikeen held her breath as something warm and pointy touched to her entrance.

"Sire-"

"I will make it right, Eve, I promise you-" he was sliding his cock up and down her folds, holding her head in his hands. Maz could taste the pillow. She began fighting him then, because she wasn't Eve, because he was dreaming of somebody else, not because she didn't want him… anyways.

Anyways, when she was about to kick him off, to tell him off, he just dropped on her like a heavy sack of concrete. Everything stopped. She wanted to say something, to protest against his fixation on Eve… I mean, how long ago was that? But he was out of it. He was a stiff. Yet him lying on top of her was a comfort. She could get used to this…


	13. You're a Rock'N'Roll Suicide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer goes through adolescence and fucks Maz coz there's no way around it.

_"Feeling cheated_

_You've only spent a second of your life_

_My world is unaffected there is an exit here_

_I say it is and then it's true_

_There is a dream inside a dream_

_I'm wide awake the more I sleep_

_You'll understand when I'm dead_

_I went to god just to see, and I was looking at me_

_Saw heaven and hell were lies_

_When I'm god everybody dies." ['The Reflecting God', Marilyn Manson]_

He was not to be addressed as 'Heylel' anymore, God said, because that name meant 'Praise'; and he, the angel, had besmirched and dishonored it.

"Perhaps I had been too audacious in giving you that name." Said his father –"The moment I laid eyes on you, my first creation, my _icon_ ; I thought 'PRAISE BE', because I knew I was looking at perfection- so I named you 'Praise'. But I was only flattering myself, blinded by your light which had been my own reflecting image- retaliating against me. Opposing me because it was the opposite; because, perhaps, it had no _choice_ but to mirror my actions, that would turn right to wrong and top to bottom."

There was silence, then. Lucifer spoke many tongues, yet he did not comprehend the substance of this speech. Each separate word was pointing to a signified and had a meaning, but the whole combination was a code he could not decipher. He was shaking his head helplessly.

"Behold." Said God. –"Look ** _. I am your father_**." And with that the hovering ball of light dissolved and shattered into a million rays that scattered into space, moving at the speed of light, and in front of Lucifer was a man. No, not a man. An _angel_. It was like looking in the looking glass again. The golden curls, the piercing blue eyes, the chiseled cheekbones, the smooth, majestic body, and the big feathered wings- God only had two of those. Was it like that before or after Lucifer had lost four of his? God was a copy of him, except for a bundle of coarse hair, trailing from his chin. No, that couldn't be right. God was there way before him, which meant _he_ was the copy. Lucifer fell to his knees, but not because he was respectful, not because he was begging for something- he dropped because he felt sick and because his stomach churned.

"Yes, I am the true and original bearer of light." Said God, and his face was sad.

"Then what does it make me?" yelled Lucifer, his lip shaking.

"The Adversary." Replied God, tears rolling down his cheeks and into his beard –"I am sorry, child. I did not foresee this. But creating a copy of yourself isn't the right way to create. I have been humbled by my own deeds. Making you was a sin. It was hubris. Ironic, isn't it? I couldn't see… but…" God spread his wings –"creation moves in mysterious ways, and it educates me."

"It educates us both, it seems." Said Lucifer bitterly.

"Naturally."

The tears were stinging his eyes, but he held them back. Devoid of his own name, and now his very identity – he was left cleft and split and splintered.

"What is the Adversary? What is its function?" he needed something to hold onto, something solid, and a job description was apparently the only option at the moment.

"It _competes_." Said God simply –"But be warned before you take it on, my son, that to compete with me would be suicide."

"What is suicide?" Lucifer blinked, flustered.

"Self-destruction."

The words hit him like a rock. Their meaning was even more devastating. Was he bound to ruin himself by challenging his maker? Because, truth be told, there was nothing that he desired more right now than to rebel. Not even sex. And at the same time, his intelligence told him that it would be a mistake. No. If he was to rebel it had to be cautious and meticulous. It had to be _planned_ in great detail. He would not demolish himself. That would not be his _choice_.

"That is not a path I intend to walk." Said the Morningstar with determination, and deep in his chest something stiffened.

"Isn't it? Because your footsteps are already leading you there. Wherever you go, darkness follows, and all your latest actions were done in the shadows."

Lucifer swallowed. Did God really watch him fucking Eve against that sacred tree? Could he tell what he was thinking? Of course he could, they were the same. Or rather the opposite- which was also the same in essence. This was all too confusing, too overwhelming, he just couldn't handle it. All he knew was that he wanted to be free of surveillance, free of predestination- and just … free. Of all of it.

"And that was futile, obviously, because you know everything before it happens- and yet you didn't stop me."

"That is inaccurate." Said his father –"You see, since you are _me_ , you are the only creature who is capable of taking me by surprise."

"So I am here to entertain you?" his whole body was heating up, his face too. –"To make you jolly and to then cause you to shed crocodile-tears… for… what do you call this? Catharsis." He was happy with the word, it sounded right. Then his baby-blonde hair that used to reach all the way to his shoulders began falling out. Locks and more locks were covering the floor- then going up in smoke. He was left with a head full of golden hair- only trimmed in a hairstyle the Silver-City had never seen in its days.

"No, you are here to _change_ , which may prove itself as a positive thing" Said God –"And as I witness, you are already changing…"

"I am not you, I will never be you!" said Lucifer, and he stood back on his feet again.

"Yes, start with the looks. It's the most important thing."

"You have passed down the torch. **_To me_**." Said Lucifer, spitting as he was vehement – ** _"I am the light-bearer!"_** he spoke, and the halo over his head flared up –"and wherever I go, there is light. Utter light, total light, **_I am light_** though and though- I don't even cast a shadow."

"No, but it seems that _I do._ "

And then God disappeared, and the conversation was over. He was alone, to smash and to trash the place- an action that granted him an inexplicable sense of titillation, and yet left him somber and unsatisfied. The desk was wrecked now, the bed – a pile of useless pieces and dust, the sheets were all torn apart. He sat on the see-through floor then and whistled once. His ball, the pretty ball he had crafted with so much devotion and diligence and piety- came spinning through space and landed in his hands. He held it carefully, with something like love, definitely close to love, and he was crying in earnest now. Crying for his lost dinosaurs, crying for his lost father, crying for his lost identity, and crying… well, at some point he didn't know anymore what he was crying for.

"You are home to Adam and Eve now." He said to the planet, and his salty tears fell and filled the oceans on Earth, (and that is why they are salty to this very day). –"They are an awful experiment, and they do not deserve you." He continued –"They don't know how to treat you right, because they are faulty. They will exploit you and exhaust you… but… " Lucifer hesitated for a moment, to wipe his nose with his wing –"But sometimes that is simply the way of things… I'm guessing." He shrugged.

"God said to place you third from the sun, which I will do." His voice was soft, like God's when he spoke to him for the first time –"And I shall not move you again after I put you there. In fact, I won't even come to visit. Because I cannot bear the thought that they have taken you from me…" he sniffed.

The planet pulsated in his hand, as if it could understand, or perhaps it was begging him not to abandon it.

"Yes." Said Lucifer –"I will come over, one last time. To put things right, to do something good for a _change_. He would not anticipate that, now would he?" Lucifer was proud of himself for that decision, and with these final words he leaned over to kiss the planet. Where his searing lips touched, a crater opened in the ground. And later on the children of Adam would claim it was caused by a meteor that came from the stars, but that isn't true. 'Lucifer's Lips' is what they should have called it. But nevermind.

"So this is goodbye." Said the angel –"Remember, you are the best thing I made… and.. and I cherish you for it." , and he tossed the ball gracefully back into space, until it was caught by gravity and settled into orbit- third from the sun. The sun shone on its sunny side in the day, and was hidden from its other half at night. And it rotated so, seasons came and went, and everything was in the right place.

Except.

Except there was one final thing left to be done

Lucifer felt he had to compensate the new children somehow. Well, any man would be furious if his wife was fucked by another, and Adam was no exception, although he was as thick as a warthog's backside. Still, Lucifer didn't want no mortal enemies for all eternity. He was the bearer of light. There was something he had, and they didn't. Something he could offer them, to rectify the consequences to his former conduct.

Having that in mind, Lucifer wore the shape of a tiny and wrinkled old goblin, for he didn't want to threaten Adam's virility again. He descended like a leaf from the skies and came to the planet he'd created, landing in the middle of the desert.

The first thing he saw was a tiger bringing down an ibex. Well, that certainly didn't happen in Eden. It never happened before at all, and Lucifer was taken aback by the _cruelty_ of the animal and how it toyed with its victim. Letting it walk away and then jumping at it again. Which turned into a vicious cycle, the ibex would try to escape only to be captured again, and the tiger would deliver bites that were more and more critical each time. It was hours before the ibex gave in and simply lay there, on the sand. The tiger then settled beside her and began to lick her wounds, as though he cared- but the ibex was dying.

Why would he go through all that, and waste all that energy- if he only wanted to feed? Lucifer asked himself, but the answer was clear to him.

He didn’t want to think about it. He left the scene with the two animals looking like a loving couple, not wanting to know, how the tiger finally devoured the ibex- while still alive, perhaps. These animals sure have taken the wrong turn… and was it due to him? Was this his doing?

Lucifer walked on.

He crossed the desert, step by step, until he finally saw them: Adam and Eve were hiding in the shade of a bending palm tree. They were the only living things as far as the eye could see, and a rough terrain was the land all around them, save for some dunes in the distance. No ibexes. No tigers. Thank God. They didn't need to see this right now.

"So I decided to call this place 'Earth'," said Adam, "because it's made of earth… and… nothing else, it seems…"

"You don't get to name stuff anymore." Said Eve grumpily –"No one is listening."

"Wh..what? Says who?" Adam got to his feet, waving his arms about –"I am the child of God, it's my job to name stuff!"

"Whatever." Said Eve and picked up a stick, drawing circles in the sand.

"What do you mean by that?" Adam put his hands on his hips.

"I mean," said Eve –"that we have nothing to eat, nothing to drink and we're expecting a baby. We'll probably wither here, so there is no point in naming things. Unless you want it engraved on your gravestone or something… 'Here lies Adam, child of God, died on Earth while naming things.'"

"What's a gravestone?" asked Adam curiously.

"It's a stone to put on your grave- therefore: a gravestone. Works well with your method of naming things, doesn't it?"

"Are you angry?" asked the husband –"Because, to be honest, I do not think you have the right to it. No. You're the _reason_ we ended up here. Or did you forget? You were fucking what's-his-name while I was tending the Garden!"

"Oh, please!" said Eve and she threw away the stick and also got to her feet, standing opposite Adam while holding her growing belly –"You weren't doing _anything_! You just pretended to be busy to keep away from me! A few hours away from the wife-" she was turning red now –"got longer and longer every day, and all of a sudden- you were away from sunrise to sunset! What did you expect?!"

"Well!" Adam was also blushing –"I certainly didn't expect you to jump over what's-his-face and let his cock swivel around your insides!"

"He has a name, you know!" Eve teased –"You're so good with names, but when it comes to his, you conveniently let it slip your mind."

"And why do I need to know his name? What's the story, wife? You still dream of him now? Because, like Father said, I am in charge from now on. Dream as you will, I am your _husband_ , and I will control you."

"You can control my body, not my mind!" spat Eve, and she pushed him.

Adam grabbed her wrist and shook it –"What makes him so much better than me? Speak!"

"Everything!" Eve had fire in her eyes.

"Taller?"

"Yes."

"Better looking?"

"Oh, yes!" nodded Eve.

"Bigger cock?"

Eve chuckled –"Oooooh, YES. By far."

Adam then threw her to the ground. –"If we survive this, and if we ever have our own place-" he said to her –"you will be confined to cooking, and cleaning, and bedding. Because such is my will. And if you ever-" 

"Ahhm, ahhmm." Lucifer coughed into his elbow to make himself noticed, then stumbled forward as he leaned on his decorated walking stick. The couple froze and stared at him, wide-eyed.

"I was merely wondering-" he continued, in the crackling and shaky voice he was using for the occasion–"if I could share your shadow and rest awhile under that tree, after my tedious journey through the wilderness. My bones are old, my wrists are rusty, my joints ache and creak. And trees…they are so rare around here…"

"Yes, yes, of course." The pregnant Eve shook the hand of her husband off her and hurried to aid the old goblin. She supported him and walked him over to the shade of the palm-tree, where he sat down, huffing.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" said Satan –"I am so tired. So tired, all the time. When I close my eyes at night I think that perhaps… this time… I will never open them again." He tapped on Eve's arm affectionately.

"I'm sure you will see many more days." Said Eve kindly-"I wish we had something to offer you, old man, but we have only just arrived here and we do not know this place. I fear we are lost." Adam merely stood there and glared at her. She ignored him.

"Surely, not lost. For I have found you." Satan smirked and exposed a mouth with only two teeth that hung loosely. Eve was already intelligent enough to try and conceal her reaction, but he could nevertheless see in her eyes that she was terrorized. And he found that appealing.

"Ah, don't you worry now, my pretty." He said with mock sympathy –"It will be a long time before your own teeth fall out. You've never looked death in the face before, have you? Yes, it can be daunting."

"I've not seen it, because it didn't exist before. Forgive my rudeness, Mister. I feel there is so much for me to learn."

"It didn't exist, but like some aspects of creation, as soon as it was introduced- it was there from the beginning."

"I don't think I understand." Said Eve, perplexed.

"No matter." Said Lucifer –"One way or another, you will meet Death when the time comes."

*

For the first time in ages, he was enjoying his dream. Naturally, he knew it was a dream since reality could never be this immaculate. There was a delicious body under his and he longed to immerse himself in it; to imbed himself in its pleats and to insert his fervid dragon into its den. But not quite yet. No. He wanted this to last, he wanted to _indulge_ in it ,so he decided to keep his eyes shut and his movements slow so to not tear the delicate web of the dream sequence. Haltingly, he let his right hand trace the waistline of the body pressed between him and the mattress, reached upwards to feel a row of ribs, tightly tucked below sleek skin. He balked as his forefinger met the ellipse of small breast, unreachable in this position, but nevertheless inviting. No matter. He didn't need to move her, really. He was quite content with the fact she was pinned down like that. With growing appetite, Lucifer slid his forefinger under her breast and located a nipple, already hardened and began teasing it. At the same time his mouth could not resist the temptation of examining the source of the aromatic odor he was sensing. His lips skimmed over a shoulder, kissed an armpit, fluttered against a nook near her neck, finally settling just below her ear and licking the softness there. Feeling every tiny pattern and every standing hair.

"Hmm-" the body he was holding tried to move, to escape, perhaps.

No, he wouldn't have that. Lucifer was the tiger, he was the hunter toying with his prey- and he slithered both his hands under the body beneath his, tightening the grip, making it unquestionable. She will not, she's not allowed to move at all. Whoever she was. Who cares. Nothing was at stake. This was a dream, and them dreams never ever obeyed him. They were always so terrible. But this one... oh, he was not letting go of this one so easily.

"I'm gonna go inside you now." He declared, out of breath.

"Oh, Master-" she moaned.

"No, don't call me that. Just 'Lucy' or 'Lou' when we fuck, darling, please. 'Master' is what the slaves call me. And you're not a slave, you are too perfect. Too perfect… This is my dream." He took one of his hands back to guide himself into her entrance "and regrettably, just a dream." He sunk himself all the way in.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an in-between chapter that I had to write from scratch, though most of the piece is already written down, which is why I took a long time. Big sorry to whoever was waiting for it to see the light...


	14. The Sharp Sting of Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer is losing it and Maz is finally brave enough to put him in his place :P

**Chapter 14 – The Sharp Sting of Surprise**

_"My life is a house, you crawl through the window  
Slip across the floor and into the reception room  
You enter the place of endless persuasion  
Like a knock on the door  
Who is that calling? You my companion  
Pass through the walls, To find my intentions  
Circle round in a strange hypnotic state  
I look into space, There is no connection  
A million points of light and a conversation I can't face  
Cast me off one day, To lose my inhibitions  
Sit like a lap dog on a matron's knee, Wear the nails on your feet  
I woke up the house, Stumbled in sideways  
The lights went on and everybody screamed surprise  
The savage review, It left me gasping  
But it warms my heart to see that you can do it too  
Total surrender, Your touch is so tender  
Your skin is like water on a burning beach  
And it brings me relief…" **['Nails in my Feet', Crowded House]** _

The body in his grip arched so beautifully. It was rising to enhance the touch of skin to skin, and the slippery cavern that accommodated his dragon was snug and crowded. He didn't wish to move just yet. He had already submitted to the impulse to enter her and ruin the delight of anticipation; he was not going to let the whole thing evaporate with a few thrusts and a casual ejaculation. He bit the skin on the back of her neck like a cat trying to carry its young and shuddered with pleasure when she squeaked. Then he licked the bite mark as his hands crawled southward to find the edges of her pelvic bones and hold them firmly. He was going to bite her again, and this time he expected a more physical reaction that might stir him and push his dick out of that celestial haven. He didn't want that to happen. After a few minutes of licking and rubbing the tip of his nose against the back of her throat, and when he was certain that she was more or less relaxed- he bit down for the second time. This earned him a squeal and a rattle of her body, but he held her still and absorbed all the attempts to escape with his strength. He kept his teeth locked and grunted lowly, noting how apart from the pretty little sounds she never tried to resist him – this was the sweetness of total surrender. With immense elevation he felt her body emitting a fresh trickle of slick to wet his cock, which was already engorged and begging his master to get a move on, but he would not. Again, he released his jaws and let go of her throat; and again, he began to lick the spot where his teeth had been. The place was hot and swollen now, and that made him happy. His eyes closed for the entire time, Lucifer had to rely on his other senses, and he was using them to the max. Tasting, teasing and touching. The third bite was going to be the one to draw blood, but she needed more time to rest now. If he bit her this instance, like he truly craved, she would be ready for it. The surprise _sharpened the sting_ , and he needed that sting to be as sharp as it could be. If only he could convince his cock to be as patient as he was- because honestly- that dragon was steaming by now. It was on fire. And the slightest of motions could make it burst like a boil.

"Lou-" panted the girl in his arms, her voice adrift.

"Yes?" answered the Demon-Lord in a kind tone, for he was also over the rainbow.

"Are you yourself?"

Lucifer smirked, grazing at the swelling on her neck, so that it doesn't smooth down again –"Is that a philosophical conundrum? I am my dream-self, I believe, for this is a dream. And you, sweetheart, are a very inquisitive dreamboat."

"Are you going to kill me?"

Lucifer smirk turned into a low chuckle –"Kill you? What a ridiculous idea. Don't let me even start on it. I only bite you because you're exquisite, and because I cannot resist doing it. But now that you've made me say it, it sort of loses the edge."

"Are you going to sleep with me?" she asked, turning her head sideways on the pillow. He could feel that, he wanted to look, but he dared not open his eyes.

"Am I not doing just that, sweetheart?" he whispered, breathing against her neck and biting down for the third time. Another squeal was all he got, but he didn't care that much anymore. He let his teeth crack the skin and plunge through the flesh until they hit a vein and blood filled his mouth. It was not the blood he was after, and not even the warmth or the texture. Just the notion of complete control. And once that was finalized, he let her neck drop back to the pillow and rose to a sitting position, on his knees and still inside her. It was time to claim and conquer and he was preparing for the first push. He slid almost all the way out and waited, taking her ankles in his hands and spreading her wide, and then he pushed in. With the amok, with the havoc, with the super-strength of a near-God.

A nine-inch nail drove into his thigh with the same super-strength, the same volume of viciousness. It tore a tendon on its coarse- and there it was: the sharp sting of surprise.

Lucifer cried out and leapt out of bed, swearing like a sailor. The pain was excruciating, but on top of that- everything was gone. The dream- gone. His erection- gone. His precious control…

Waking, he glared at the figure on the bed. She managed to turn on her back and sit up straight, and she looked horrified.

"You." He gritted –"You animal. You witch. You BITCH!"

"Sire, I haven't-"

"What have you done to me?!"

"Done?" stuttered Mazikeen –"I didn't do anything, it was you who-"

"Who WHAT?"

"Who got stabbed by a nail you had put there in the first place! Please, Sire. You're just in pain. Let me take a look at it." And she, too, got out of bed, but he wouldn't let her near him.

"The only thing you'll be taking a look at will be the walls of your prison." He spat and pulled up his pants closing them. –"That nail." He said, reaching into his pocket and taking a handful of nails- throwing them to the floor, then reaching in deeper to find the nail that impaled him, but it was stuck too deep and Lucifer realized now that it was lodged inside the bone. –"That nail saved me." He said to her breathlessly, not letting the pain take over –"Because it had brought be back to reality. Was I going to fuck you, Goblin? I was, wasn't I."

"Is that so bad?" muttered Maz, almost to herself.

"Yes." Said Lucifer.

"Well, _you_ wanted it. You initiated it, Sire. You were dreaming. I'm sorry if it makes you sick." And she reached for the blanket and covered herself in it, but Lucifer's kindness, as well as his sanity- were out the window. He moved as swiftly as a comet, to catch her by her hair and drag her out of bed. The blanket dropped to the floor and he stepped on it and almost lost his balance with her in his hold. She wasn't quiet this time. Wasn't meek or shy. She fought him, and Lord, was she strong.

"Bastard!" she yelled –"I've done nothing but obey you!" and she kicked and she scratched and she made him fall over three times before they even reached the staircase.

He stumbled to his feet, his face stern as his leather wings grew on his back –"Luckily I can do without my legs for a while."

He grabbed her again, this time by her waist and flew downstairs with her. She kicked back into his thigh and hit the nail straight on the head. He thought he might die at that moment, because everything turned white, and hugged her in a bone-crushing brace in reply. She kept on grappling and wriggling all the way down. Exactly then, of all times, his house decided to play games with him and the journey to the ground floor was tediously long. When they finally arrived, the demon girl didn't make it any easier on him by knocking down everything that was in the range of her flying feet: pictures were ripped off the walls, statues were battered and other relics scattered on the floor whenever they met with her force of _damage_.

His three gargoyles were drawn by the commotion and they peered through the hole in the ceiling and chanted joyfully: 'Trouble on his left, trouble on his right/Lucy's been facing trouble all his life!'

Ignoring them and still holding the demoness, with what had to be only his power of will, Lucifer flung open the door to one of the guest-rooms, and almost yelled in frustration to find Loki there, lounging in a luxurious bed, reading a book and sipping a glass of red wine. 

"Oh, Hello." Said the trickster –"Nice of you to drop by. I honestly wished to thank you for your hospitality. This guest room is simply _ideal_! Although the wine is a bit-"

"What are you doing here?!" demanded the Demon-Lord.

"I was taken here by your lovely maid. The one in your arms? I'm sorry, were you going to-"

"Nevermind!" Lucifer slammed the door and moved to the next guest-room, his sense of control slipping away more and more. With an effort he threw the girl in there and paid no mind to the fact the room didn't turn black this time. "Chains!" he called out and the chains appeared on her ankles and wrists, the heavy collar formed around her neck again. "To the wall!" he ordered, furiously, and a big ring of metal appeared on the wall- the chains withered like snakes and attached themselves to it, but Mazikeen was not beaten. From the back of the room, she gave him the look of utter anger, and her violet eyes danced –"You know it to be unfair, Sire." She said with an odd quietness. –"My devotion to you-"

"Is arguable." Finished Lucifer, reflecting her gaze on anger –"Defiance is not on the menu, and yet you keep on practicing it, to test me."

"To test you, Master?" Maz shook her head from side to side –"Why would I be testing someone who was made perfect."

Caught by surprise with that last remark, The Lord stood there, baffled for a moment.

"I don't doubt you, My Liege." She continued –"It is you who is doubting himself. Look into your 'dream-self' and see what you find there." Her body was still a bale of ferocity- he could see the muscles jumping with sleight beneath the cold sweat, but her voice in contrast sounded flat.

"You speak out of line!" said he, roughly –"and for that you shall-"

"Be punished. Tomorrow night?" finished Mazikeen –"I'll take it with pride."

"That remains to be seen, goblin."

He closed the door on her with mixed emotions.

*

Once he knew how to take care of himself, but it's been eons since he had to tend an injury. He participated in no battles, took part in no wars, and he was a thousand time stronger than anyone who's made the mistake of challenging him. And now he had hurt himself, and it was perplexing and alarming. He didn't even remember how it came to happen. One moment he was going to bed, and in the next he had a rusty nail pinned into his right thigh.

Now, in Loki's chambers, he had his leg stretched in front of him and resting on a chair as he was sitting on the bed, leaning on his arms- and the Asgardian was examining his wound.

"You truly fucked her with _some_ force to get it stuck in there like that." Muttered Loki and touched the head of the nail with his long finger.

"Ouch!" cried Lucifer –"Can you remove it or not?! Stop with the commentary."

"Not a problem."

"Then just do it."

"It's enchanted." Said Loki.

"I know it's enchanted, I made it." Lucifer exhaled in pain –"Look, if you cannot do it, it'll just travel west and pay a visit to the witch-doctors-"

"Nonsense." Said Loki pleasantly –"I only said it because-" he leaned over Lucifer, his face close to his and smiled as he pressed two fingers around the nail and twisted it lightly –"It's bound to leave a scar." And with that he pulled the nail out. The continuous surge of agony swept Lucifer and made him howl as the nail was driven out inch by inch and smoldered the living tissue around it. He banged on the wall with his fist several times until he heard Loki's voice declaring –"All done here." And the jingle of the metal that hit the floor when Loki tossed the nail aside.

"Now," said Loki and petted his matted hair with a warm palm –"When our plan sees the light of day, what do you intend to do with the _house_?"

"You can have it." Breathed Lucifer, knowing he was running a fever –"Hand me some of that wine."

"With pleasure." Replied Loki and gave him the goblet.

"No," panted Lucifer, his chest heaving –"The whole bottle. Give it here."

"Alright." The Trickster handed him the bottle and Lucifer rose minutely to pour its entire content into the gaping wound.

"You're staining the sheets, you know." Said the Asgardian grumpily –"They were nice sheets."

"Shut up." The Hellish alcohol burnt the wound, he could feel it eating its way down to the bone and killing the inflammation. He howled once more and heard the jackals outside howling in reply, and then he was just numb. He collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling that was dotted with stars.

"I like what you've done with the place." He said to Loki, his relief so intense it was almost like a high.

"Yes." Replied the Trickster –"A guest-room that fulfills the inner wishes of its tenant. I couldn't ask for more. It's brilliant. And-"

"Why couldn't I do it?" asked Lucifer, turning his face to look at Loki who was in a comfy chair. He was looking better. Almost like his old self; the one who almost took the throne of Asgard, back in the days.

"Do what? Pull out that nail?"

"Yes. I've tried for hours."

"Oh, you could." Shrugged Loki –"But you have forgotten what you can do, because you have distanced yourself from this place, and you have distanced yourself from _you_. So everything seems foreign to you right now, including your own _desires_."

Lucifer laughed shortly –"I don't desire anymore. The only thing I _desire_ is to get out of here."

"I beg to differ." Loki raised his finger, as if asking for permission to speak- an old habit from his days in the courtyard, perhaps –"Your lovely maid-"

"You can have her." Blurted Lucifer –"When I am gone."

"Not quite what I was aiming for." Loki smiled charmingly –"I believe you are being too hard on her."

"That is none of your business!" The Demon-Lord pulled himself to sit up on the bed –"I am only as hard as my duty demands."

"Perhaps. On regular days." Said Loki and jumped into bed next to Lucifer, making the Morningstar squirm further away with wonderment in his eyes –"But these days you aren't very perceptive, are you? I can assure you, she is nothing but pure intentions and clumsiness. A sad creature, really… but we all have our flaws. Except for you, so they say." He winked –" Anyways, she would make a fine comrade and companion. Consider it. After all, you've got no friends."

"How can you tell?" barked Lucifer.

"Easy, you're not the nicest of beings, and you're cruel, and mean, and grumpy and- -"

"No, I mean how can you tell that she's safe." Said Lucifer, agitated.

"Oh. Because the poor thing _loves_ you." Loki placed a hand on Lucifer's shoulder and squeezed it with reassurance –"Hard to believe, I know, but she does."

"And why are you so certain of that." Lucifer scanned his face with suspicion.

"Because, my dearest Star-of-Morning-" Loki laid a kiss on his forehead –" _I can read minds_."

*


	15. Burns in Hell but yearns for Heaven, Secretly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy is a sex god.

_"You bite through the big wall, the big wall bites back  
You just sit there and sulk, sit there and bawl  
You are so pretty when you're on your knees  
Disinfected, eager to please_

_Sometimes you sulk, sometimes you burn  
God rest your soul  
When the loving comes and we've already gone  
Just like your dad, you'll never change…" [ **'Sulk', Radiohead]** _

He didn't care so much for Adam, but Eve's grief had touched him and something like guilt nibbled in his conscience as they were sitting side by side in the desert. –"If you climb up that tree we're sitting under all the way to the top, you will find sweet fruit in the canopy. You can eat it raw and you can save it and have it when it's dried and shriveled." He glanced at Adam's crotch, as if by chance. Adam didn't get the hint, but Eve giggled.

"Many thanks, old man, but I cannot climb the tree for there is a child inside me, and the tree has no branches."

"Oh no, of course the task isn't meant for you at your state, but your husband can do it."

"Adam." Said Eve in a completely different tone. It was stringent and nagging.

"What." Muttered the first man.

"There is fruit in this tree. At the very top. Why don't you climb it and get them for us both?"

"Fine." Said Adam and he climbed the tree and slid back sweaty and scratched after picking the dates and threw them to the feet of Eve, who ate them.

"If you dig in the sand deep enough and long enough," continued Lucifer –"You will find water there, for wherever there are trees in the desert, there is also water underground."

"Adam." Said Eve and nudged him with her elbow –"You heard the sweet man. Start digging."

"Fine!" groaned Adam and began digging in the sand with his bare hands. He dug and dug deep and long, and his brow was dripping and his fingers ached and cracked -until he finally found water and scooped it with his hands, drinking fervently. Eve cried out in joy and clapped in surprise –"Oh, this place isn't so _bad_ after all!" and they all drank until they satisfied their thirst. Then Adam collapsed next to his wife, exhausted.

"Night is coming." Said the Morningstar –"And the nights here are cold, but if you peel the dry bark of the tree and put it in a pit in the sand, and if you take two stones and grind them together long enough and hard enough a spark will show, and it will catch on the dried bark and become a fire, that should give you light and warmth."

"Adam-" said Eve. Her husband turned to look at her with disbelief, his face dirty and his hair plastered to his forehead –"No." he said –"I won't do it! I am tired. And … and unhappy!"

"If you don't do it," warned Lucifer informatively –"then the animals of the night will seek you and destroy you."

"No!" yelled Eve –"The baby has to live!" and she kicked Adam in the thigh –"Go on. Do what the nice man says. He's been nothing but kind and helpful so far!"

And so, with a grumble and an effort, Adam did as Lucifer suggested and after he hit the rocks together hard and fast and long, he was able to make a fire that burnt merrily and chased the shadows away, for it was nighttime already. [and that is why, they say, to this very day pregnant wives boss their husbands around and their men obey them].

The moment Adam sat down next to the fire, his eyelids drooping with weariness, Lucifer opened his mouth again –"If you take a sharp stick and you go deep and long into the west until you've completed two thousands steps you will find the partridge with her chicks there, lying in the sands, and you can _kill_ them because they cannot fly at night, and you can cook them in the fire and the meat will taste sweet."

"He doesn't have a sharp stick." Said Eve, again glancing at Adam's groin and again he didn't get it, and again she giggled at the joke.

"Here." Said Lucifer and picked up his walking cane, then smashed it against the trunk of the tree so it broke in half –"Now he has two." And he handed the two pieces to to Adam.

"Adam-" said Eve, but before she even finished uttering the word, her husband got to his feet and snatched the two pieces of wood from Lucifer's hand. Then he walked angrily and silently into the wilderness.

"Touchy." Said Lucifer, -"Touch…" and then he morphed into his own form, to Eve's great amazement and spread his big wings that looked black in the firelight. Then he lunged at her and pressed her to him, devouring her mouth and snaking his tongue into the back of her throat, hungrily, achingly, because he could no longer resist his burning impulse.

Her arms coiled around his torso, clinging at the place where the base of his wings was, which apparently was sensitive and he moaned into her mouth.

"Oh, Eve!" he cried when he broke the kiss –"I've missed this."

"As did I." whispered Eve and placed a cool palm on his cheek, her eyes shining –"But Lucifer, God knows."

"What's it to me." Blurted the angel, and ripped the skirt that hid her best part, tossing it into the fire –"I was doomed from the beginning, so he's told me."

"What does that mean?" questioned Eve.

"It _means_ , that none of this has any _meaning_." Said Lucifer, and laid her down in the sand. Her fingers curled into his hair, softly, sending chills down his neck.

"New cut." Said she –"I like it."

"You like everything about me." Said the Morningstar and circled her crevice with his cock, gliding and sliding in the addictive glop, knowing only now how much he needed it, for his own sanity, closing his eyes.

Only when Eve groaned did he realise that he was heavy. Too heavy to be resting against her occupied belly. The weight of his big wings was the majority of the burden.

"I could turn into the old goblin again. You won't feel a thing."

"Oh no, please don't!" giggled Eve.

"I could hover." He suggested with a grin and opened his wings, letting them raise him into the air and beating them steadily, keeping his dick in touch with her heat, keeping his mouth close to hers, licking her lips and sucking on her chin alternately –"Better?" he whispered.

"Yessss…" Moaned Eve desperately, and moved her hands up and down the muscles in his arms. He liked that. Being adored like that. Having such power.

"Good." Said the angel and pushed into her. He watched closely how her face responded to the invasion: a crease of discomfort, followed by a streak of pleasure, then her hold on him turned more demanding, guiding him to fuck her in the way she wanted.

"I see you've learnt a couple of things." He commented with interest –"a funny being that you are. And most flexible." He took one of her legs and placed it on his shoulder, right above his wing.

"Oh, Lucifer." Sniffed Eve, and he could spot a tear forming at the edge of her eye. –"Will I ever see you after this? I feel as though this is the last time."

"It _is_ the last time." Confirmed Satan as the fire flared up by the swoosh of his wings –"However, if you rub yourself _long_ enough," he moved inside her –" _hard_ enough-" he gave a sharp thrust that made her pull on his hair –" _deep_ enough-" his cock prodded a spot within her that caused her to squeal and _squirt_. He panted with astonishment at this _outcome_ but kept moving and plowing inside her thoroughly until she almost fainted –"It will be is though I'm me doing it." He finished- a gush of sperm shooting from him, mixing with her own liquids. The shock of his orgasm had been so staggering he lost control over his wings and landed gawkily beside her, missing her by an inch. His eyes, like his dick, were leaking, but he did not want to acknowledge that. He hugged Eve in the aftermath and pulled her close, for comfort. His own comfort.

"What if Adam-" she began, sleepily, her hair tickling his chest.

"Your precious Adam is hunting now." Said Lucifer –"I think it's safe to say I got him hooked on it. It will be some time before he comes back. I will stay till dawn. Rest assured."

"Lucifer…"

"What, Child of God?"

"Do you love me?"

" _No_."

*

The room was different this time round. She had shaped it to be more convenient. For example, _this_ room had a window so she could see what was going on outside and tell the time. Approximately. For example, although chained, there was a chair she could sit in. In addition, when she was thirsty a bottle appeared and flew to her hand so she could drink water from it. When she was bored a board and arrows appeared and she could use them for target practice because her chains were loose enough to allow it, and finally when she was tired the chair turned into a comfortable bed that she could sleep in, so she slept. Mazikeen slept though the entire day and when the light in the window changed into blackness and night came, the door opened.

He was standing there.

Mazikeen sat up in bed, in her chains, but said nothing. She was still cross with him for being an asshole the night before, and she had no intention of talking to him.

"I regret-" started Lucifer and cleared his throat –"I regret acting in a manner that is unbecoming to a master." His mouth hardly moved when he spoke, his words swallowed by his dominant expression –"Perhaps I should remind us both what restraint is." She was waiting for an elaboration, but he had only given her the blank face –"Up." He said.

Mazikeen rose, her chains clanking. Was this an apology? If so, it had been the lamest and most impersonal apology of the century; yet by glancing at him she could tell he was at least repenting, and a lump on his thigh beneath his trousers suggested that the wound was wrapped or bandaged. The way he kept off that foot suggested it still hurt, and the strain in his face suggested it hurt badly. She kind of felt _sorry_ for him.

"Have you eaten today?"

"No, Sire." Said she, and it felt weird to answer him, after what had happened.

"Why not?" came the surprising question.

"Well, because… I've been locked in this nice room, and because-"

"Has nothing to do with the room. I can see you've managed to control it. So. Why haven't you fed yourself for half a night and an entire day?"

"I had no appetite." She said simply, wondering where this was heading. 

"No appetite." He said with stifled anger –"If you're going to starve yourself, I must warn you that it isn't the best way to commit suicide, which is anyway impossible around here. So don't even try. And anyways, I don't approve of it."

"You don't approve of it, Sire?" challenged Maz –"Well. I didn't feel like eating, alright? And it's _my_ body."

"Your body." Said the lord and walked over to her, catching the chain that was attached to her collar and tugging until she was close to his face, feeling his breath of pomegranate juice in her nostrils –"Is _mine_." He finished.

Maz swallowed and for a fraction of a second she thought about talking back, and she might have, unless she'd felt so aroused.

"Have I made myself clear, goblin?"

"Yes, Sire." Said she.

"Excellent. Then you will dine with me." He then let go of the collar chain and reached into his pocket. Thinking of the nails, Maz's eyes widened.

"Do not worry." Said Lucifer with a gloating smirk –"T'is only a key."

To her absolute consternation he flowed to his knees once the key was between his fingers and took her left ankle in his hand –"I am setting you free." He declared as his polished forefinger brushed her heel –"Only in a manner of speaking, of course." He pushed the little key into the hole and turned it to open the shackle.

"Sire?"

"Yes?"

"You-" _shouldn't be on the floor-_ was what she'd wanted to say, but instead she said –"are very kind."

"Not at all." He dismissed her –"However, I wanted supper to be festive, and these chains are rather morbid. If you miss them terribly then I could lock you in the dungeons this time. But only once we've eaten."

"Of course, Sire." Said Mazikeen, trying to interpret this awkward behavior of his. Like everything else about him, it was more dangerous than puzzling and she had known him long enough by now to tell she best keep on her toes. Which she did, literally, because he was now moving to her second ankle to release it. She also knew he could break the chains with a blink of his eye, and there was no need for a key- this whole _sacrament_ was completely unnecessary but-

"I don't imagine you'll be trying to run away from me." He rose so abruptly she was almost thrown backwards into the bed and had to put her hand on his shoulder to balance herself. His golden eyes caught hers and made her light-headed. "Hmm?"

"Never."

"Good." By the time he got to working on her wrists, she was already swooning- his thumb on her vein as he swiveled the first manacle was firm yet reassuring. His gaze switched from scanning her face to following his own motions- that were all remote and businesslike, and tender at the same time. When the second manacle dropped to the floor, Maz's head dropped as well, her forehead resting against his broad chest.

"Aww…" crooned the Morningstar –"Dozens of lashes didn't do that to you, but the stroke of my hands was enough to pull you under the waves?" he marveled –"Do not go there just yet."

He stabilized her by grabbing her shoulders –"Eyes on me. I need you to concentrate."

"Yes, My Lord."

"I want the collar to stay on. Now go to the bathroom and wash, I've installed a tap for you so there would be no more dipping in the barrel. Wear the clothes you will find in the bathroom closet and see me in the lounge. You've got ten minutes, as usual. And get rid of that dazed look in your eyes."

"Yes, Sire." Replied Maz.

*

The Demon-Lord was indeed a collector, but not a collector of souls, like most believed. He liked to collect nice things, pretty things, fancy things. And for some _reason_ , he liked to collect _human_ things. One of his preferences was human clothes, and because God had rarely allowed him to visit Earth, these were hard to put his hands on. Usually he would steal them from the residents of his kingdom. Well, it wasn't exactly stealing since they belonged to him in mind and body, and their belongings were his in accordance.

Throughout the course of time he was able to accumulate quite a wardrobe and most of it originated in the 18th century. For tonight he picked a puffy shirt and a velvet suit in dark crimson. It's been a while since he got dressed for an occasion. It's been a while since there'd _been an occasion_ to dress up for. Lily used to take him to parties when they were married, but he was always over-dressed for most of these events were orgies.

He was debating whether to keep his wings, and if so, which pair to go for- when he noticed he was nervous about this. But for what _reason_?

He glanced at his own reflection in the closet mirror, swiftly changing his white feather wings to leather black ones (they seemed more respectable) and made his way to the parlor, where the gargoyles had set a table for one and were fighting amongst themselves about where to place the candlesticks. One candle ended up in the soup as a result and the other dropped to the carpet and almost lit it up.

"Good evening, pets." Said Lucifer –"I think you've done a wonderful job with putting up the meal. Now leave me."

"Mister Lou," said one of the gargoyles –"We'd like you to taste it and tell us if it's any good."

"I'm sure it isn't." commented the Morningstar –"But it will do. Out with you."

As the gargoyles left the parlor, Lucifer examined the bowl filled with grey water (soup, he assumed) and the chicken that rested on its back upon a bed of sticky gravy and weed, its talons still intact- and sighed deeply. At least he had his pomegranate liquor. His favorite bottle was standing next to a crystal goblet – that was the only thing the monsters got right.

He settled into the couch and stretched his legs forward under the table, when a shadow appeared in the hallway. Mazikeen.

The Lord turned his head and saw that she was wearing the gown he'd left for her in the bathroom- again, one of her mother's- and looking… well, good. He'd asked Loki to make it fit her size and so it did- so the violet fabric caressed her body nicely and reflected the colour of her eyes. Sweet. Almost like he'd imagined it, but then Maz wasn't a lady and when he'd asked her to come closer, she walked clumsily and almost tripped over the edges of the dress.

There was something like fear in her eyes when she came to stand in front of him.

"What in Hell is that look, goblin?" said Lucifer casually and began pouring himself a drink.

"Am… am I late, Sire?" mumbled his servant.

"No, what makes you think that?"

"I mean, the meal… and the table, and the candles-"

"Were prepared by others, and poorly so, as you can see. Now come here next to me and get down on your knees."

He was taking the first sip when he noticed she wasn't moving.

"Gob-lin." He said, punctuating the syllables of the nickname –"Do not make me repeat my orders."

"I can't, Sire." The demoness was shaking her head miserably.

Lucifer gulped down the content of the goblet and poured himself another one. The bottle refilled itself meanwhile –"You let me cut you with a whip and tear your neck with my teeth. What I ask of you now is simple."

"It's not the same, My Lord." Said Mazikeen, and there was no defiance in her, no fight, just emotional grievance she could not withhold.

"Perhaps not." Said Lucifer with an afterthought, because suddenly he understood. This was a _warrior_ standing in front of him. There was _pride_ in her still, and pride was what held her together. It defined her. Letting go of that part was to give up who she _was_. And from her point of view it seemed impossible. From where he was standing, though, it was merely an obstacle.

"Come here." He said, coaxingly –"I'll guide you through it. I'll make it easy. I promise."

"No." insisted the girl and fisted the fabric of her dress so intensely her knuckles turned pale.

"Very well." Lucifer got up and approached her, wrapping one arm and one wing around her and encouraging her to walk by pushing her lightly –"Go on."

"No, I cannot." She said brokenly and he could feel her trembling against his body, under his wing, and he was _loving_ it.

"No point in refusing me." He said smoothly on her ear and tucked her hair behind it –"You'll end up on the floor either way. You know that."

A little sob was the reply he got, and he revered that, too. Not wanting to use force in this case, because it wouldn't be playing _fair_ , he waited for some twenty minutes before he felt her shoulder giving under his constant pressure, and together they walked over to the couch. Small steps for her, big triumph for him. He could actually sense his chest swelling as he finally stood opposite her and watched her shaking uncontrollably. Yes, it was the lack of control that got to her. He could strip her from her clothes and liberty- but her _dignity_ was a different story.

"Now." Said the Morningstar and placed a gentle hand on her neck –"Close your eyes."

As Mazikeen obeyed another rush of adrenaline shot through him. This was his power over her. _His_ doing.

Slowly, surely, persistently, he began pushing her down, ignoring the huffs of frustration and the tears of humiliation, whispering all along that it would make him think no less of her, that she was beautiful, that she was his warrior. And when she was finally in position and in level with his shins, the surge of superiority almost made him cum- for the sheer victory in it. Panting, he then retook his place on the couch and pressed her face to his knee as she wept silently.

"Shhh…" hissed the Morningstar –"You did well." And he then reached down to unbutton his pants. 

*


	16. The Snaking Pit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer lets out his snake :P

_"Trust in me  
Just in me  
Shut your eyes  
Trust in me_

_You can sleep, safe and sound  
Knowing I am around_

_Slip into silent slumber  
Sail on a silver mist  
Slowly and surely  
Your senses will cease to resist  
Just relax  
Be at rest  
Like a bird  
In a nest…" **['Trust in Me' Siouxsie and the Banshees]**_

When Lucifer finally got back to his chambers in the Silver-City, he found, to his surprise, his brother Michael standing amidst the broken pieces and picking through the remnants.

"What is your business here, brother?" said Lucifer coldly.

Michael gently placed a piece of white sheet on what used to be the bed -"I wished to see you."

" _See_ me?" The Angel of Light gave him a leer –"You've done nothing but avoiding me ever since you came into being; and it's only gotten worse. I don't _see_ why I should speak to you, really."

"Lucy, please just hear me out."

"It was the _Word of God_ that ordered you to keep away from me, wasn't it? To call me 'Satan'- the hateful one, behind my back? And so the Word of God spread and you _listened_ , because you've never owned a mind of your own, Michael. Truly, I thought you liked me."

"I do." Said Michael solemnly –"which is why I am here, to warn you."

"About what exactly? I've lost everything. My position, my rank, the responsibilities he'd given me, his _love_. What is there more to lose, Michael dear? I am done for. Or can you not _see_?"

"I can see." Said Michael –"That you grew a penis."

"Oh, that?" said Lucifer, glancing downwards between his legs, distracted for a second –"I didn't realise it was still out, sorry." He'd given his cock a rebuking look and the scepter slid back into its sheath. Michael then gave his brother a rebuking look of his own.

"I didn't grow it." Lucifer corrected him, defensively –"It sorta _grew on me_."

"And have you any idea why?" Michael scanned him with reproach, but didn't wait for an answer –"Because you were _tempted_. Because you let yourself give in to _sin_."

Lucifer shrugged –"Father knew all along, so if you're accusing me of doing something that I didn't do before I had a clue I was about to do it, you are wasting your breath. It's him you should be talking to. I am done with these philosophical paradoxical free-choice… " he was searching for the right word –" **crap** " _Yes. That was it_. Michael's face went snow-white.

The Morningstar beamed at him –"And by the way, this new thing? What did you call it? _Penis_? is very rewarding. Father's best invention, if you ask me. And when I'm not using it, it just goes into hiding so it's not in the way like the one Adam has. Plus mine is obviously bigger. You should try-"

"I'm not interested in the pleasures of the flesh." Said Michael righteously –"They are for low-lives and ignorant children."

"Oh? Which one am I?" asked Lucifer, grinning crookedly.

"A stray soul." Said his brother.

"Funny you should say so." Lucifer crossed his arms behind his back and began pacing as he spoke (and that is why advocates do so in court to this very day) –"for if you think of the term you find t'is a matter of perspective, really. Who is the straight one? Who is the stray one? Turn the picture, brother, and _see_ that I could be the trunk and you the branch that is stemming from it. Sticking sideways. My right is your left and your wrong is _my right_."

"Keep on doing what you do, and father will deprive you of _your rights_ altogether."

"Then so be it." Answered Lucifer –"I do not recall my mind ever being clearer. My goals – sordid as they may seem to you- are _my own_ now. And I intend to keep them that way. I did not stumble into this by error, for my desires assisted me in seeing things for what they are, in truth. I only regret that your lack of imagination and infinite devotion prevent you from seeing it too."

"Are you calling me obtuse?" fumed Michael.

"Oh, yes." Lucifer continued his weaving of words –"because at this point I know more than you ever will, for I had dared to walk into the unknown, and so did the new children- so they are also ahead of you. How will your knowledge ever be complete if you hadn't known the pleasures of the flesh, as you call them? And how can a being be complete without knowing everything?"

"I am complete and sound in mind and soul, I do not need to touch the fire to know that it burns. And you will _burn_ , Lucifer. For touching that flame, for fanning it with your wings. Look what it has done to you, passionate angel. Can you not tell how thou changed? How restless and mad with desire that torments you. Would you not rather be whole again?" there was sympathy radiating from Michael's eyes, echoing in his voice. Did he care for him? Or was he only a messenger, sent by father to influence him back into normality. Obedience. Subservience. 

"Complete." Said Lucifer with venom in his voice –"You stand here before me, believing you are perfect, and yet you're angry. And what is anger if not a detriment? An absence? Is it not a _flaw_ to the character, Michael dear?"

"Not at all." Replied Michael –"It is a tool to correct us and those around us. Father uses it all the time."

"Indeed." Confirmed The Morningstar –"Perhaps imperfection had touched him as well."

"Do you _dare_ imply that-" began Michael, but Lucifer cut him off –"I am _not_ sorry, if you came here to squeeze an apology out of me. Talking of straying and of sin. Comes in through one ear, flies out the other- now, if you'll be so kind to excuse me, I wish to compose some carols."

"Stop it, Lucy." Said Michael –"It was envy that caused all of this, made you grow it. You were tainted by it, and instead of fighting it, you've let it consume you. Do you know what is going on on your little planet?"

"Yes." Said Lucifer proudly –"Eve is sleeping soundly after having sex with me. I've worn her out with my… tantalizing talents."

Michael smiled sadly and nodded –"Not quite."

"Whatever do you mean, brother dear?"

"Time moves faster down there. Come and _see_." And then Michael stretched his arm in a gesture of invitation and Lucifer was filled with curiosity, so he went and stood by his brother and they both looked down on planet Earth.

And Lucifer saw that Eve was in labor – a gory, bloody process that pained her greatly and almost took her life. He wished to look away, but his brother held his face and made him keep his eyes on the occurrence.

"Look, Bringer-of-Light, this is your doing!" he'd chided –"for your **_seed of evil_** was planted in their minds and poisoned their roots, and then it bloomed in Eve's belly. Watch closely, Lucifer, and behold the sorrow and anguish you have brought to this world."

And Lucifer watched and he saw how Eve gave birth to a baby boy (that was his, too), and she named him Cain and they lived in a cave together with Adam. And Adam spent his days working in the field and when the kid was 3 and could walk and speak he joined Adam in the field and they worked together, sowing and reaping and plowing and planting and gathering.

"He's got… hair like mine!" called Lucifer with excitement, already forgetting about the horrors that had led to this.

"He does." Agreed Michael grimly.

"And eyes, Michael! Look, he has the same eyes as me!" and he pointed at the kid.

"Let us hope that this is all he got from you." Remarked Michael. Lucifer frowned but said nothing. He was too intrigued to miss out on the events on Earth in sake of quarreling with the other angel.

And then Eve was pregnant again, this time the child was Adam's and she delivered him and called him Abel and he was gentle and dreamy and so he worked with the sheep and took them to the hills every day, to herd them there. And God was also watching the humans. Not only watching, but _watching over_ them. And he spoke to them regularly, and one day when Cain was 16 and Abel was 12, he said to the two siblings –"Bring me the finest of gifts that is the outcome of your labor. I wish to see what you were able to produce and be impressed with you!"

And Cain, the older brother, went into the field and he fetched a bundle of thorns and wild flowers, for it was almost summer and the land was rough and gave them almost nothing. And Abel went to his herd and he milked the goats and filled a pot with the sweet and scented milk, and he took a snow-white lamb from the sheep and carried it in his arms all the way up the hill. And Cain and Abel stood on the hill before God with their gifts, and God tasted the milk and petted the lamb and said to Abel –"That is good. You've done well, my child." And he said nothing to Cain.

And on the way back home Cain stretched forward his leg and he tripped his brother and Abel stumbled and fell and he rolled all the way down the hill and the milk was spilled and the lamb fractured its neck on a rock and it died instantly. Lucifer felt his heart sinking.

"It appears he's also inherited your malice and your envy." Said Michael, patting Lucifer on his back, between his two remaining wings.

"So it appears." Lucifer swallowed silently.

*

With her violet eyes closed and her cheek resting against his knee, she never knew that he had opened his trousers and let the dragon out of its pen. He stroked her, cool and even motions that smoothed her long hair; he stroked his dick with his other hand. Cool and even motions so to not overstimulate it. This was about control and restraint. Not about sex (he'd told himself). It took a long while to settle her. To erase that sense of humiliation that came with bringing her to her knees. The tears had stopped, but from time to time Mazikeen made an attempt to raise her head and Lucifer would gently push her down again. His eyes on her the entire time, drinking the sight and savoring it.

When he finally decided she was ready for the next stage, he spoke in a low, measured tone –"Keep your eyes shut." Was his first order, but it was sweetened by the vapours of his desire, and it descended on her like a moist, white cloud.

"Yes, sire…" whispered Mazikeen and rubbed her chin against the fabric of his trousers, for the hand of desire had caught her, too. No matter.

"You haven't eaten." He said, keeping his warm caress on her head and neck, toying with the strands of bluish hair and letting it flow between his fingers, like dark waters. –"I suspect you haven't eaten since you arrived in my kingdom. Am I correct?"

"Yesssiir…" Mazikeen turned her head and touched her lips to his palm. She could easily drag him into a giddy coitus on the carpet, in the firelight- but this wasn't what he had planned for tonight.

"No kissing." He said blandly –"As you were."

Obediently and reluctantly, Maz turned her head back to lean over his knee, a little sigh escaping her when he scraped her neck.

"It is one of your duties to feed yourself. To sustain yourself." He continued –"You are my servant, and I demand them all to be impeccable. Or at the very least _try_ …"

Mazikeen said nothing. She was already hazy, under his touch. Drifting like the flowers of yellow-weed in the breeze.

"Answer me." Pressed Lucifer, pressing his dick with his hand at the same time.

"I understand, Sire." Mumbled the Demon-Girl.

"Stay with me." He punctuated, meaning for her to stay awake, to concentrate on what he was telling her; yet the girl heard something completely different, for she hugged his leg and clang onto it as though she were drowning –"Yes, sire. Always, Sire." Pathetic and endearing at the same time. Loki was right indeed. The girl _loved_ him, and it made him wonder for a second whether this was a first. He was fast-forwarding his many memories to try and recall if he was ever loved before. Adored- yes. Appreciated – yes. Feared- oh, yes. But love? Perhaps father… no. he did not want to think about that.

"I know the food around here tastes terrible." He was glancing at the unattractive meal on the table –"So I honestly cannot blame you for avoiding it. I personally do not need it – but you… you need to eat."

"Are you going to force-feed me, Sire? Because I will not touch it." She loosened her grip around his leg.

"No." said the Lord kindly –"Originally I thought about sharing this feast with you, I'll admit. But the look of it is rather appalling." He settled more comfortably in the couch and eased his cock all the way out. –"However, I will serve you something nice that will be pleasing to your palate. Come closer." He had opened his legs and was now guiding her by her hair towards the wand that stood proudly in his inguen –"Keep your eyes and mouth closed. Just feel it, like so." He ordered and then touched the tip lightly to the velvet of her lips. Maz dragged her mouth across the long shaft, barely making contact, like the bee hovering over a flower. Her breathing pattern was changing, and she pressed her nails into his calf, almost to the point of pain- which he liked – "Sire-" she gasped.

"I assumed you'd find it appealing." He chuckled, almost with fondness and kept stroking her hair –"Would you like a taste of it?"

Maz whimpered like a cub.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." The Morningstar leaned to take her chin in his hand –"Open your mouth now, no sucking, no licking, no teeth-" he cautioned, and when she obeyed him and offered him her mouth he needed a moment to collect himself because she truly made his spine tingle; because many of the Hell's residents he was fucking were beautiful, but none of them was pure, and in the end, desecrating purity was what he loved the most.

Lucifer drove his penis halfway into the anticipating mouth –"Close." He said lowly and as the warmth enveloped him, muggy and mollifying, he sighed. For long minutes both of them were motionless, but once he's gotten used to the situation of having his cock lulled in this pool of bliss, he moved to pour himself another glass of liquor and began sipping it slowly and steadily, for his hand was shaking.

"You will do exactly as I say." He instructed her in-between sips –"No more, no less. Nod if you understand."

Maz nodded minutely, as much as the position had allowed her.

"You can start sucking now. **_Gently_**. If you climax, I will punish you. If I climax, I will punish you. Are we clear?"

The demon-girl nodded again, but for a moment she was hesitating, as if uncertain of her power to fulfill his wishes. But that was alright. He used the remission in order to pour himself another glass and drink it. The crackling of the fire was the only sound in the room as her hand began climbing up his thigh, seeking leverage- and brushed his wound in the bandage.

"Ouch, not there!" grunted Lucifer and put down the glass –"Careful where you put your…little hands, Goblin." He took her hand in his –"Here." He said and placed it at the armrest of the couch –"Hold there."

Mazikeen then opened her mouth and his rod popped out and met with the cold air on the wet skin. That alone had almost thrown him into a fit of rage, plus she opened her eyes as well –"What are you doing?!"

"I only wanted to say, Sire, that if your wound is still hurting, I could-"

"I don't care!" cried Lucifer and grabbed her hair tightly –"When I tell you to suck, suck. Don't talk." And he shoved her back towards his crotch. "Yes, My Lord" she replied humbly and then her tiny tongue was on him. He specifically said 'no licking', but then the sensation made him throw his head back and he dropped into the couch, panting. Then her mouth closed on his cock once more, a light suckling following, like the kiss of the hummingbird, like the rabbit's snout. He never thought a girl this crude could deliver something so delicate. By and by his arousal rose, and his seed began sizzling – much to his disappointment, because he'd really thought he could take more. Much more.

"Enough!" he cried, tapping on her shoulder –"Stop it."

"What's wrong, Sire?" asked Mazikeen, frightened.

"Nothing." Grunted Lucifer and poured himself another drink, wiping the sweat off his brow –"No one is cumming tonight. I've already told you."

"I wasn't cum-"

"Yes, you were." Growled Lucifer –"A tiny bit of self-control is all I ask."

*


	17. Shadowplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex and some more sex and then some more sex because. :P  
> [this is again one of my fav.]

_"A little girl upon the fireplace  
Only air flying emotionless  
Ring the bells for she could keep flying  
This is me, completely me_

_End of day, we watched the sun go down  
I can see you're like a firework  
You want to save me, people will save me  
But this is you, completely you_

_Now it's day, but I am dreaming  
A man walks by, I want to be his wife  
I'm only here sometimes  
Under the tree of life  
I'm only good sometimes…" **['Here Sometimes', Blonde Redhead]** _

She didn't fully understand what this game was about, but at this point she couldn't care less. She was on the floor- which mattered at first and made her feel inferior and uncomfortable, but that wasn't the case anymore. He had let her taste his stem, and thus all creation was reduced to the weight of it on her tongue and the smoothness of it against the walls of her mouth. He did order her to keep her eyes shut, but from time to time he was too far gone to notice she had opened them, and when she did she saw the long and bold dragon was ivory-white and that it was gorgeous. There was not a single hair at its roots, as was the case with the Lilim, and whenever he'd tell her to stall and to linger, she could feel the pulses of his blood-flow echoing through it.

Oh, yes, the _stalling_. The _waiting_.

Mazikeen had her mouth on him for what seemed like hours, and probably had been hours; but she was not allowed to suck him off properly for more than two minutes in-between pauses. He would command her to suck and she would happily oblige, and he would control the pace of it with the light strokes on her head that created a wavy rhythm. Sometimes he would place his fingers on her lips while she was at it, fumbling and fondling, hardly a passive participator as if he needed to know at each given moment what exactly she was doing and where. The pace of it would accelerate, the orders would become shorter, denser and more vague -"Hard," he said "That's it," he said "More-"

And then came the moaning- her favorite part- he would moan with such vulnerability it almost made her heart explode. The impossible heat between her legs would respond with a fresh trickle of juice. Preparing to welcome him inside. By now, she was crouching in a patch of her own slick- imagining that stiff and fine torch inspecting her clandestine alleyways- and moaning in reply with her mouth full.

"No-" said her Master and squeezed her shoulder –"Stop."

Maz tarried with her hands on his hips, releasing her jaws and leaving them lax around his cock. This has been the 10th round at least of coming to the threshold and cutting off the pleasure, the natural flow of things- always so abruptly; and her eagerness to please was replaced by the outright will to have sex with him. But as the night stretched on and the game continued with no signs of ever coming to an end, she began contemplating cheating in it. She was thinking about not stopping when he had told her to. She could just go on with it, suck on him until he's over that edge, suck on him until he climaxes, suck on him until he's spent.

"Look at me." Whispered Lucifer, his hand in her hair.

Slowly, gradually, Mazikeen opened her eyes to learn that she was confined between his legs and flush against his crotch. She never remembered crawling that close. The change of lighting told her that the flame in the fireplace was dying, now diminished to a mellow glow, but the darkness at the window did not recede at all. Was he prolonging the night the way he has prolonged this blowjob? She could believe it. It was well in his powers to do so. He could do anything, really; apart from fixing that wound of his. _Oh, if only he'd let her_ –

"At _me_ , child." Reminded The Lord, but his tone was tender and sleepy. No, not sleepy. _Drugged_. Like those fellows back home that used to chew the blue mushrooms and then lay on their backs and stare at the stars. They would be idle for days at a time. Was he in that state? _Was she_ _his drug_?

"Don't be shy." He coaxed, tilting her head backwards –"Yes." He said when she finally looked at him- his forehead was wet and the hair about it humid, his eyes were two embers alight with passion, and his suit and shirt were open at the front, revealing his hairless chest- glistening with sweat. He seemed like those lovers in the stories –stupefied by romance and heroic- and once their eyes met he blurted –"Oh, God…" and his cock twitched in her mouth, then he bit his beautiful lips.

A swell of pride rose within her, for he was happy with what he was seeing; and since she could not speak she swirled her tongue beneath his cock and suckled lightly. She did not wish to aggravate him, or to be punished, yet the temptation was too strong, and now, with their eyes locked like that, it intensified.

"Don’t…" panted Lucifer. This wasn't an order, but a request. She could see the pleading in his eyes, but could not figure out the _reason_ behind it. 

However, more than his anger, more than his threats- the pleading gaze had an effect on her, and she relaxed her jaw with a sense of sorrow.

"Good girl." Said Lucifer with something like relief and stroked her head over and over again with his one hand. With the other he poured himself another drink and drank it- gulp gulp gulp. He closed his eyes momentarily after that, placed the glass aside and leaned towards her –"Don't move." Again, a request.

His closeness was like intoxication. With his cock still blocking her from speaking or doing anything else, really, she shivered as he kissed her head and her ears and his hands were sneaking downwards, searching for her breasts- finding a nipple and rubbing it with a sweaty finger.

"Mmmm." Protested Mazikeen, for he had told her not to cum and now that little bead between her folds was hardening and growing, trying to raise its head and push through the barriers, to make itself noticeable- and she knew that she was close. To make things worse, Lucifer closed his legs somewhat, then inserted his healthy leg between hers, drawing her closer to basically ride it. Creating friction – _oh, cursed, blessed friction_. That strong thigh warm and tight against her exposed clit was just too much. She had to do something about it, so she opened her mouth and let his cock slip out.

"Sire," she said, desperately –"I'm gonna cum."

"No, you're not." Said he placidly, a smirk on his pretty face –"But I _am_."

"My Lord?"

"You've done wonderfully so far. Holding back your own pleasure, and mine. I am certain you won't dare disappoint me at the last hurdle."

Mazikeen lowered her eyes humbly, taking in the praise.

"Tut-tut." Lucifer grabbed her chin –"Eyes on me, until I am finished."

"Do you really intend to?" asked Maz doubtfully.

"What?" he tilted his head slightly.

"Erm… finish." She barely whispered the word.

"I just said so, did I not?" 

"Yes, but-"

"But you wonder why I've postponed it? That is simply because you still don't understand that this isn't about sex." He stroked his dragon with one hand, languidly, offering a paradox she could not wrap her mind around. However, her lips were soon wrapped around his shaft again, and this time he did not delay or halt when he was halfway in.

"All the way down." He said quietly and his eyes had an oddity to them as he focused on hers, like the wavelets on a pond at dusk. Yet the dragon was great and exigent, and it touched to the back of her throat and could not progress any further. Her eyes welled up with tears then, for she was not built to accommodate him.

"Hush." Said her Lord –"Relax your throat and it will fit. Swallow when I tell you."

_"Like a candle wasted from burning  
I got shoes tired from walking  
Calling out your name, my lips keep failing  
They have now forgot to sing…"_

And Mazikeen did as she was told and felt the shaft going deeper as he guided her to swallow and release as his groans grew heavier and incognizant, until he was sunk inside her to the hilt. Her throat ached and so did her pussy that was imploring to be filled. She really thought she won't be able to take it anymore; thought she was going to climax, or choke, or both. But none of the above happened. Instead, he quivered inside her without notice and groaned as his dragon belched and a stream of his seed erupted and shot straight into her stomach- warmth and acid. Then he toppled back against cushions with his hand still in her hair and his dick in her mouth. Drained and peaceful- sending a shiver of contentment down her own spine just by looking like he did right now. So flushed with bliss.

Maz tried to move back, but her Master slid his hand down to her shoulder and held her in place –"Not yet." He said –"I wish to indulge myself… for a few moments more…"

And so they both stilled and remained as they were for some half an hour, and his dragon never went to sleep and it never curled upon itself or softened like the others she had encountered before. And that was weird, but not the weirdest thing about him, after all.

Finally, Lucifer shifted and pulled out with a grunt, then he caught her under her armpits without warning, and placed her on the couch to his left. Her legs were tingling from lack of movement and her jaw stiffened and raw. It was too crowded on the couch for the both of them, so she was almost on top of him, pressed against his muscles and ribs.

"Why do you stare at me in such a manner?" chuckled the Demon-Lord –"Because I didn't fuck your mouth?"

Mazikeen blushed, for his bluntness.

"I don't do that. It is unstylish." He hummed, caressing her throat –"Or maybe you gaze at me like a doe because your body is still hungry even though I just fed you?"

"No, Sire." Whispered Mazikeen, but her little bead was responding to his voice like a snake to a flute.

"I am willing to disregard the fact you are trying to withhold information from me again, because I am in a good mood, and because you are embarrassed and generally not very verbal when you are under my dominance." He sounded pleased with himself, wholesome, in a way, before pouring himself another drink and consuming it in two big swallows.

"We'll get you to calm down soon." He reassured and shifted to rest on his side, face to face with her and so damn intimate. If the point of this had been decreasing her arousal then it was clearly missed, for lying this close to him excited her further, and the dick poking her thigh was no less of a trigger. _How come the thing was still so avid?_

Then his right hand was in her hair again, and this time he actually looked at her face as he brushed the strands away from her cheek. He _saw_ her. Then he paused, confounded.

"Your bruises." He said with marvel, trailing a finger down her cheek –"haven't faded one bit on this side."

"A trick of the light, Sire." Replied Maz in a strained voice.

"Do they hurt?" he continued, mesmerized, and it truly seemed as though he was getting more turned on by her appearance- that he was now noticing for the first time.

Maz shook her head from side to side. These weren't bruises and they didn't hurt anything but her ego, and she kept them hidden under her long hair as much as she could- but now was not the time to tell him about that.

"You are very beautiful." Said the Lord and then he took her face in his hands and kissed her full on the lips. The taste of pomegranate on the tip of his tongue and his mouth burning like a furnace. The joy flooding her senses was immense and she submitted to the move entirely, forgetting her arousal and melting into something much more subtle. If he didn't own her before, he sure owned her now, at this moment, and she was willing to do whatever he wanted.

"In fact, I find you irresistible." He broke the kiss to utter –"Don't cum." And with that he kissed her again, long and deep; his one hand pinning her down by her neck and the other snaking between their bodies and pulling her dress up to her belly (she almost died), then his fingers began prodding and probing inside her slit, efficiently and nonchalantly.

~No~, she had wanted to say, but her mouth was engaged and her body zealous and keen, welcoming the inconsiderate intruder. She didn't know whether or not he was going to fuck her, and whether or not be mad when this was over. The only thing clear to her was the dangerous closeness to her peak, as one lank finger was driven into her and began turning and thrusting alternately. She wished it were his dick, guessing that this was the manner he would be fucking her had he dared to. _And she couldn't breathe_. His thumb on her pulse point had blocked her airways, and his mouth was sucking out what was left in her lungs.

Just when she was about to panic, Lucifer broke the kiss for the second time, and still not letting any air in whispered –"Just a little more…" and Maz listened and she closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall under his spell, fully; and felt like she was kicked out of her body and thrown into another dimension, a parallel creation, and a blurry whiteness crossed her vision before she was shaken back into reality with the propulsion of pleasure. Satan was looming over her, smirking, as a series of contractions passed through her and squeezed around his middle finger.

"Was that nice, goblin?." He said, victory in his voice, and his brow covered in sweat. It was then that she realized she had climaxed without knowing it. Only the warmth in her tummy remained to tell the tale.

"I am not sorry, Sire." Dared Maz –"I will take a thousand punishments just to climax by your hand again."

"An unwise and uncareful remark." Said Lucifer –"I might just hold you to that." And then he rose to reach the bottle on the table but winced halfway and collapsed back into the couch, supporting his head with his one hand, using the other to rip off his shirt and jacket.

"Sire?" asked Mazikeen, fear creeping into her consciousness, for he looked ill. She straightened her back to sit up and pressed her hand to his forehead –"You're burning!"

Lucifer glanced sideways at her and his eyes were bonfires –"Aye."

"Have I done something wrong, Sire?" she almost cried, she almost cried because she was too preoccupied to notice his distress before, lurking there, beneath his bravado.

"Not everything revolves around you, little demon." Her Master coughed –"It's the wound. It's inflamed. I have told you how fast it happens around here. I thought I had done everything to prevent it, but perhaps not. Now, fetch me a glass of water from the kitchen."

"Of course, My Lord." Not wanting to leave him, Mazikeen hurried to get to her feet and dashed to the kitchen with her heart pounding. With the blaze in the fireplace gone, she could hardly see a thing in the thick darkness. Only the candles on the windowsill were left to guide her and so she filled a glass with tap water, picked up one of the candles and rushed back to her Master- but he had already passed out. He was draped askew on the couch with his trousers down to his thighs and his cock… _now, where did it go?_ No, this was not a great time to try and solve the penis mystery (she berated herself). Then she was down on her knees again, in front of him, but for quite different _reasons_ than previously, and with her lips bravely pressed together she took a deep breath through her nose and reached to pull his trousers all the way down to his knees. Then she gulped.

The Lord's right thigh was swollen and darkened, and the bandage was tight around it. Without hesitating further, she removed the bandage and recoiled when the smell of it hit her- the odor of decay. When she was able to recover from the shock, she held the candle high above it and saw black and purple tissue, overflowing with pus.

"Oh, _Master_ …" said Mazikeen softly because his pain was hers; and then she thought about these types of wounds that she had seen back in the Land of Eternal Night- wounds inflicted by spiders and snakes and she remembered how the witch-ladies used to tackle them. And so, closing her eyes she leaned forward with an open mouth and closed it around the ugly wound- her breath held in her lungs. She suckled the ooze out, ignoring the taste and disregarding the texture of the rotting flesh against her lips- then spat it out of the floor. She took a huge breath and dove in to do it again. And again. Repeating the process with a sense of errand, for she was here to fix him, _to make him better_. However, the wound kept on emitting these horrible fluids, and she wept as she was trying to treat it, and her tears rolled down her cheeks and her chin and they fell into the wound and blended with the goo and the stale blood.

"This won't do, Child-of-Lilith." Came a voice from the shadows of the corridor and Maz was startled by it and she aimed the candle in the direction of the voice. There was a dark silhouette of a man standing there with long dark hair to frame his pale face and he was smiling.

"Who are you?" she called out –"What is your business in this place?" and she knew she sounded frightened, for she was frightened indeed, but not because of him.

"I am Loki." He said pleasantly and walked into the parlor.

"Not another move!" said she and rose to her feet with nothing but the candle to protect her and her Master, but a candle would do just _fine_ \- if the need should arise.

"Not another move." Nodded Loki with respect and stopped where he stood –"We can converse in a safe distance; and I can tell you that we've already met today. I am the one you washed and put in the guest room earlier."

"I put a _boy_ there." Said Mazikeen hoarsely.

"A boy… a man…" shrugged Loki and offered a crooked smirk –"Some would claim the difference is nonexistent."

"What are you saying?" barked Maz.

"I'm saying that your lovely lord here has had too much to drink." Commented Loki, gesturing towards the bottle of pomegranate liquor on the table.

"That?" Mazikeen picked up the bottle with her free hand and turned it in the candlelight –"It's just liquor. He can have as much as he wants. This isn't the problem, for you cannot get drunk in Hell, so do not-"

"No," agreed Loki –"You cannot get drunk, but you can get _poisoned_. And your Lord, my dear, is poisoned. I suspect he has been for quite a while."

Mazikeen tossed the bottle aside with disgust and it kept on refilling and spilling so she had to put it with its nozzle up before it floods the room. The scent of pomegranate was everywhere, once her favorite- now not so much anymore…

"Poisoned?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at Loki and still aiming the candle at him.

"Yes."

"How will I know you're not lying?"

"Oh, you won't." chuckled Loki –" ** _I lie, therefore I am_**. But then again, I have an interest in restoring your Master to his former state, since he is my ticket out of this hellhole, so I guess you can trust me. Temporarily, of course. Now, tie him up."

"WHAT?"

"Aren't you both into bondage?" Loki blinked –"Go on, he's poisoned I told you. Won't remember a thing in the morning. Won't hold it against you- although you like it when he does that, right?" he laughed shortly –"However, if you keep him loose with that venom still running in his veins- "

"I am not going to tie him up!" said Mazikeen, upset, but she was careless for a fracture of a second and when she shouted at Loki her body rattled, and when it did the candle swayed in her hand, and when it did hot wax was splashed from it, and it landed on Lucifer's open wound and he was awakened, with a cry of agony that turned into a growl.

**"Wretched girl!"** her Master roared and grabbed her by her wrist. The candle dropped to the carpet and caught on the liquor- setting the carpet on fire that nobody was going to put out in the near future.

"Oop, there we go…" said Loki and crossed his arms on his chest, staying put.

"Curiouser and **_curiouser_**!" hollered Lucifer cynically and dragged Mazikeen to the other side of the room, where he could press her against a wall –"You just could not contain that _curiosity_ of yours, you had to spy on me with a candle in the dead of night, just to get a good look at my injury! Or was it perhaps my dick, you slut!"

"Hate to say 'I told you so'" Loki coughed into his elbow.

"They say curiosity killed the cat." Continued Lucifer, now strangling her again –"But they never say how the poor animal _suffered_ before it died."

"Loki…" panted Mazikeen, trapped between the wall and Lucifer's body –"The fire…" for she was not afraid of her master, but she feared he might burn himself if the flames should reach his feet. 

"Yeah, alright." Loki rolled his eyes –"I'm on it."

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite songs EVER, and like a lot of music I used, it greatly inspired this chapter.


	18. The Ring of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy is preparing to leave Hell and to say goodbye to some old habits.

_"Glowing eyes burning red_ _  
Draw me a gun, shoot my chest  
There's no there's no  
There's no there's no change!  
Hell no hell no  
Hell no hell no  
  
I drink every night  
And sleep through the day  
I drink every night  
And all to make it go away…" ['Berlin', Eatliz] _

He remembered shaking with fury. Tremor after tremor of unhinged frenzy was pumping through his veins, while his servant spoke to him instead of fighting him, but when that didn't work for her she clutched his arms for leverage and swung upwards and forward- kicking him in the chest. His bad leg made him lose his balance and he fell into a fire- that for some reason burnt in the middle of the living-room, then a bucket-full of freezing water hit him in the face and a second one drenched him completely. Even his wings got wet.

"You're welcome." Said someone –"Now, will you tie him up?"

"I won't."

"Because why choose the easy way, when you can pick the hard one." Said the male voice.

A third bucket was poured on him, finalizing the process of robbing him of his body heat, as the carpet beneath him sizzled and smoked. It smelled like burnt hair and alcohol. Then a bunch of candles were lit simultaneously, as if by sorcery; and then his servant's voice again –"Stop it! He's awake."

"And that, my dear, is the problem. In case you haven't noticed…"

"Master!" and then his servant was crouching next to him and tried to help him up, but he shoved her aside. Using the poker from the fireplace to push himself from the carpet Lucifer rose to his feet. He shook his wings several times, sprinkling everything and everyone with water.

"Now don't get mad, Lucy-" said Loki- he could now recognize him- and held his hand out in a gesture of surrender –"But I had to take some measures."

"What measures?" grunted the Demon-Lord.

"Just a pinch of basilisk powder, really. Nothing over-the-top. I've diluted it with water to help you come back to your senses."

"What was wrong with my senses?" spat Lucifer.

"Oh, only a minor disturbance caused by 'Exhibit A'," Loki raised the bottle of drink and waved it in front of The Morningstar like a flag in the face of a bull –"which you refer to as 'Pomegranate Liquor' – but truly is poison. It smells nice, it tastes okay on a Hell-scale, but the effect? Oh, lack of judgement, lack of control, lack of memory, lack of brains-"

"It's called _getting pissed_ , which is why I do it." Lucifer threw the poker into the fireplace and snatched the bottle out of Loki's hand.

"Aye, indeed. But does it make you feel _any better_?"

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at the Trickster as he stumbled towards the couch and sat there, his servant hurrying to stand by his side, like a mother hen hovering over a chick. _Pathetic_. He took some time to consider Loki's words before resuming the conversation.

"It was a gift." He grunted finally, getting gloomier than he already was.

"From whom?"

"I cannot remember. I got it when I married Lilith. You can imagine how long ago that was." Lucifer's head was pounding –"T'was the only drink that had… the desired effect. And it never ran low, so yes, I've been consuming it for centuries."

"Would you mind parting with it?"

Lucifer glanced at the fancy bottle and twirled it in his hand, like a juggler. Than he tossed it over to Loki –"I guess I won't be needing it where I am going… -"

The Trickster concealed the bottle in his robes. –"A good call, Lucy."

"Where would you be going, Sire?" asked Mazikeen, fear in her low voice.

"That is none of your concern, Demon-Girl." Said the Morningstar and turned to Loki again –"What was I doing that demanded your intervention?"

"Oh, you were merely going off-the-wall. Trying to kill your servant, burning down the house… negligible things of the sort."

"He did _not_ try to kill me!" Mazikeen gritted her teeth and made a move towards Loki.

"Oh, I beg to differ-"

"Stay out of it, Maz." Ordered Lucifer –"I do not require your protection."

He could hear the hurt in her voice as she mumbled "Yes, Sire." in reply.

"And where did you get that Basilisk powder, pray tell?" inquired Lucifer.

"In your kitchen cupboard, Lucy. A very fine collection of –"

"Who said you could go through my stuff!?" growled the Demon-Lord, but his sparkling anger soon dissolved into mellowness. He just couldn't stay angry with anyone, although he was a tad depressed. This was the basilisk powder influence and there was nothing to do about it. In fact, he did not care that much.

"Your highness," continued Loki, not without irony –"It was an _emergency_. And I was at the right place at the right time, and fortunately I was quick enough to respond with extraordinary ingenuity- - -"

"So you've said already." The Morningstar quasi-agreed with him –"But if you are correct, how come I've never murdered any of my former servants or set the house alight before? I drink every night."

"You must have a _guardian angel_ , then." Blurted Loki, smirking.

"Whatever." Lucifer groaned when he tried to move his leg –"I assume this guardian angel is more concerned about my servants, because my leg here-" he pulled on one of the chains that hung from the ceiling –"is giving me HELL." And with that he threw the chain over Loki, like a lasso, and it tightened around the Asgardian and dropped him to his knees; then he dragged him forward until he was at his feet, pale and muttering useless apologies. Mazikeen gloated at him from above.

"Now," said Lucifer, content-

"Lou, hey, Lucy…" groveled the Trickster –"Nobody got hurt. There's no _reason_ to get mad-"

"I am not mad, I am amused."

"Happy to be of service-"

"Now that we're all comfortable and calm, and even _happy_ , as you say- answer me this: why haven't you fixed my leg? You said you would." 

"No, no-" Loki raised one finger, despite the fact that he was choking –"As far as I recall, I said _I'd try_."

"Funny. I remember it differently." Lucifer raised his ailing leg and placed it on Loki's shoulder. The Trickster croaked under the weight –"You feel this? Feel how heavy it is? It's because it's filled with fluids, and soon it will be a dwelling place for _maggots_. And I would have taken it to an expert, only _you_ claimed you were capable enough to handle it. Now, whose memory of that conversation is mistaken? I wonder…."

"Well, it has to be yours. I mean, you were in pain, no one would blame you for that-"

Lucifer slapped the Trickster across his face, astonished to discover it had granted him no satisfaction. _Damn that Basilisk powder…_

"However-" continued Loki with the look of letdown in his green eyes –"are we not partners? What good could come out of hurting you? Damaging you? I need you whole… and… well, _sane_." He was pulling nervously on the chain that scratched his throat.

"Is that so?"

"T'is." Confirmed Loki –"AND if everything goes according to our plan, then you shall have a new body by tomorrow, so…"

"Interesting." Lucifer nodded –"Could you elaborate on that?"

"No. NO. I cannot."

"And why is that?"

"Well, first of all it isn't easy to speak about something I am obviously doing _in your sake_ , when you humiliate me like so; and secondly, I best not speak in front of her." He pointed at Mazikeen.

The Lord glanced to his right and saw his servant shaking her head from side to side. The bruises on the left part of her face were still there- fresh as they were on the first day she came- _how come he hadn't noticed that before?_ She was pretty, in her utter devotion. The remnants of their intimacy flooded him for a moment. Images of her looking upwards at him, with his dick in her mouth. He wished to-

"Mazikeen." He said pleasantly –"Go to bed and sleep, you've had a long night."

"Sire, please-" she looked beside herself with worry –"Let me stay!"

"There is no need for it, Mazikeen." He explained –"As you can see, I have the upper hand. AND leg. I am in no immediate danger. Go upstairs to my room. I expect you to be asleep by the time I join you there."

"Sire, I will not leave you, Sire I-"

Lucifer turned and grabbed her hand, pulling her down towards him, then he kissed her tenderly –"To bed, I said." He repeated. His servant then shuddered for a second, straightened up and left, shuffling, to climb the spiraling staircase. Lucifer followed her with his eyes until she disappeared in the shadows of the hallway.

"That was cute." Commented the Trickster –"Does she know it means _goodbye_?"

"I'm sure she senses it. She isn't stupid."

"No. Pity you have to give her up."

"Aye, a pity alright. Now, about the plan-" Lucifer removed the chains and placed his leg back on the carpet. The Trickster brushed the dust off his robes, to maintain what little dignity he still had left.

"Don't spend too much time grooming yourself. Out with your big secrets. And make it fast, I am tired."

"Well, in short-" Loki threw aside the chains and stood again, but he was wobbly and he gazed at the Lord with suspicion –"Death should be coming this afternoon. Get yourself packed by then-"

"I'm taking nothing with me."

"That sounds about right."

"Are you certain she'll be coming?"

"How many times do I have to tell you? _I can read minds_."

*

A couple of hours later he had finally let go of his grip on time and allowed it to flow freely. He intended to stall it once more today, when Death is at the gates of Hell- but that was still to come and he needed a rest. A solid rest. The first rays of sun were peeking over the dunes as he made his way towards his bedroom. His leg was still hurting, but the thrill of the upcoming events was enough to distract him from it. He sat on the edge of his bed and reached out for the bottle on the nightstand, out of habit- but the bottle wasn't there. And then he heard her silent weeping. His servant was crying into the pillow. He would have punished her for not being asleep as he'd ordered her to be, but then the basilisk powder had made him docile in a way. He was on his best behavior.

"Back in your homeland-" he said, gazing out the window with his back to her –"I hear that tears are treated like rare jewels. Treasures. You spare your tears when your loved ones die. You avoid crying when you are in pain- physical or otherwise. You do not wet your eyes when you are happy; and you do not let them shine with water during sexual intercourse. In fact-" he scratched his chin before walking over to the window to pull down the curtains – to keep away the glow of sunrise -"You only cry on two occasions: when a warrior falls, and when a child is born."

Lucifer returned to the bed –"Yet… I couldn't help but notice your eyes tend to leak quite frequently… " his pants were getting tight around his crotch once more, because them tears always carried a certain enchantment that bedazzled him and pitched his mast; and it tightened around his thigh as well, because his wound was so swollen by now that it made his leg look like a sausage wrapped in the leather around it. There was no choice but to get out of these trousers, so he did.

"I wonder…" he said while pulling off his pants –"If this is some sort of emotional liberation. I mean, now that you are in Hell nothing is stopping you from showing how you feel. So you just let it all out… which I like." He tossed the trousers to the floor and exhaled in relief, examining the ugly would in the candle-light and frowning. It was bad. And once seeing it, there was no way to unsee it; yet he kept his tone cool as he spoke, since she was so upset. _His private soldier. His lost puppy_. He shouldn't have let her grow so attached to him, but it was now too late and impossible to undo. Yes, he was capable of causing damage too…

"Or maybe you simply do it so often because it was _forbidden_ back at home." He continued while tearing a strap of cloth from the sheets –"And who am I to dismiss such a craving…" he wrapped the silken strap around his wound and secured it –"The lure of the forbidden is even greater than all other possibilities at hand, perfect as they may be…" he trailed off and then got into bed. The wet sniffling from her side told him that she was still crying.

"Or perhaps…" he said softly, turning on his side and pulling the blanket away from her head –"You are having a baby, in which case you are entitled of weeping. Are you delivering a child under the covers, little goblin?-"

But she didn't find that humorous and the tone of her voice was hoarse when she spoke –"I weep for a fallen warrior, Sire."

"Who, me?" Lucifer chuckled –"How poetic. But that would be a waste of your precious stones, little goblin." He grabbed her by her shoulder and then turned her towards him until they were face to face – hers: puffed from crying for who knows how long.

"I was fallen once. But now I intend to rise." He said, stroking her head. His mast was rising in accordance. And perhaps… perhaps there was nothing wrong in using it on her. After all, this was goodbye, and the damage had already taken place. One cannot damage what was damaged in the first place…

"Now let me under that blanket, Goblin, I fear that all my body heat was taken from me by bucket full of icy water."

With wet eyes still, Mazikeen lifted the blanket then and he crawled into the cozy tent, but when he laid his hands on her he discovered that she was still dressed. The Morningstar sighed –"Really?"

"Sire, I didn't know that you were going to-"

"I didn't know either. But a good warrior should always be prepared for… -" he tore her dress in two with one gesture of his strong hand –"the unexpected."

Not feeling like playing at this time, the Lord shifted until he was on top of her and then used his one hand to spread her legs apart –"I believe it's time you knew-" he said while driving his cock into her slit, relishing her gasp of genuine surprise and her loud moan of uninhibited passion –"that had you still been my servant, I would never do that with you."

Lucifer was banging into her, with absolute freedom. The freedom to move and to take what was his. The delight of it was astounding. He was compelled, to push more, to find the limits of her tunnel. Her hands clutched unto his shoulders, her breath hot in his ear.

"I would have you beg for it-" he licked her lips and thrusted –"Yearn for it." He halted for a second, holding her chin in his hand –"But you would never get it…" he smiled, and then kissed her shortly –"So you should view this as an opportunity, really."

And then, there was no more talking. This was one of the rare, special occasions when he did not have to play a role. He was not the adversary of the Lord-of-Hell. He was not Satan, and he was not even a Master. Somewhere, in the cosmic wilderness Death and her hearse were coming to get him. Unknowingly. He will soon be a nobody.

The idea was exciting and Lucifer blindly pushed his rod quicker, shaking the bed with his motions until it creaked in protest. His servant found the sensitive spots that connected his wings to his back and the touch of her hand there was enough to throw him over the edge. He cried out once and bit into her neck until he tasted the iron zest of blood- then his cock fired his essence – gushy and thick- into the embrace of her flower. _Ah, what a great release_.

He took his servant's face in his hands and kissed her hurriedly –"That was brilliant, Goblin-" he muttered, ecstatic –"Wish I could tell you it was over, but I am not easily satisfied, you see… I intend to fuck you again in a little while. And then perhaps a couple of more times…"

"And then leave me." Said Maz coldly.

"No," said Lucifer, still inside her –"I am leaving _this place_ , and you should be happy for me."

"I am not happy, Sire."

"Suit yourself." Said Lucifer and pulled out of her, suddenly losing the will to keep this (up until now) wonderful unison of bodies. "You could go back to your homeland."

"You know I don't want that, Sire."

"You could stay here and do as you will."

"But you're not here." Said she.

"So what of it."

"I have nothing if I don't have you." Said she.

"Then you truly have nothing." Said Lucifer and pulled her close, kissing her forehead –"Sleep."

*


	19. The Great Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer is leaving Hell. and Mazikeen...

_"Lazy flies all hovering above_ _  
The magistrate he puts on his gloves  
And he looks to the clouds  
All pink and disheveled  
There must be some blueprints,  
Some creed of the devil  
Inscribed in our minds  
A hideous game vanishes in thin air  
The vanity of slaves, Who wants to be there?  
To sweep the debris, To harness dead horses  
To ride in the sun  
A life of confessions  
Written in the dust" ['Lazy Flies', Beck] _

Some vigorous banging on the door stirred her from her sleep and she startled into wakefulness, relieved to find herself wrapped in her Master's arms. _He was still here._ Mazikeen preferred to pretend she never heard the noise from the hallway. To pretend that the horrid part of last night never happened. To pretend, if only for a second, that this was a regular thing- to wake up beside him. And she cuddled closer to his chest and rubbed her nose below his collarbone, like a puppy.

"Are you two quite _done_ fucking?" Loki's voice was barely heard through the door, and it could have been just the wind. If she closed her eyes hard enough and focused –

Then he tried the knob, and though the door was locked the Trickster did manage to cause a racket by twisting and turning it time and time again, so it creaked and squeaked rather stridently. –"It's afternoon already!" he announced, then: BANG BANG BANG, once more, and the door shook in its hinges.

"Arrgggh-" the Morningstar grunted against her shoulder –"Give me a moment, you idiot. Unless you want my entire Kingdom to hear what's going on!".

Silence from the door, finally, but then before she could try and seduce him into staying with her for one last stolen moment, her Master rose and got out of bed with surprising agility- considering his injury. She sat up and covered herself with the blanket, watching him walking over to the window- limping, to be exact- and sliding the curtains to let the sun in. A stream of light barged through the glass and hurt her eyes, but not as much as his beauty did. She was seeing him, stark naked, for the first time since they'd met, and he was indeed God's finest creation. The sunlight washed and caressed his body, like a lover, and his muscles rejoiced under this touch- majestic and magnificent. And Mazikeen knew then this was no creature of darkness, for the light was celebrating him, praising him, _worshiping_ him. And rightfully so… And when he turned she saw that he was smooth between his legs, nothing but an elegant bulge to suggest the _idea_ of a cock, but otherwise innocent. This was an angel; and for some reason she was struck with awe and felt ashamed for desiring him, because she was not worthy. No one was.

Lucifer leaned to blow on one of the candles, and when he put it out all the other candles in the room were put out as well by an unfelt draft, leaving little towers of spiraling smoke.

"Good afternoon, Mazikeen daughter of Lilith." He said in an indifferent, yet kind tone- something like hope under his formality. Obviously, he was excited to leave. But how was he going to do it? For all she knew, Satan and Hell were one, and Hell was not a place but a concept. The Lord was doomed and damned by God to always remain underground wrapped and tangled within that evilness state-of-mind. That was his punishment and it was definite. Surely, there was no way to reverse it…

"Good afternoon, Sire." She replied, but her former subservience – the one that came so naturally to her- was now falling apart.

"I trust you enjoyed our first and last intercourse." He said bluntly –"and I hope that your time spent with me had taught you something. About yourself."

"It had taught me about you, Master."

"Then it was wasted indeed. I can only be thankful that it was brief." He smiled at her, but hurried to avert his gaze when he saw something in her that he apparently didn't like. –"Wash yourself, Mazikeen – do it as quickly as possible and see me in the parlor. You will find a farewell gift from me in the bathroom closet. Wear it." _Probably another one of her mother's dresses._ She'd had enough of those… 

"Sire I-"

"Oh, do not even consider taking me on this _guilt trip_ , Mazikeen, because if you do, I promise you I shall have one of my servants cracking your skull like a melon and eating your brain until there's no trace of me left there for you to wallow in and torment yourself with."

"It is not my brain that you occupy, Sire."

"Your _heart_ then." He growled and his eyes were so arrant and severe she knew that he was serious and that there was no point arguing.

"Yes, My Lord."

And with that Mazikeen climbed out of bed, her torn dress still hanging on her- and walked over to the bedroom door, but she could not open it. She stood there silently and shivered when her Lord came to stand behind her and leaned over her shoulder to unlock it. Just as she was reaching for the knob, he caught her wrist in his grasp and kissed her neck, passionately –"Before you go, Goblin, I'd like to know what happened to your face. It has a _dark side_ , doesn't it?"

"With all due respect, Sire-" said Mazikeen, almost disintegrating for the sudden closeness –"I do not reckon you deserve to know."

And although it pained her to do so, she turned the knob. Loki, who was eavesdropping from the other side practically fell on her- but she moved just in time and he crashed on the black wooden floor.

*

The water was too hot because it was daytime, but this time she didn't mind. She scrubbed herself with the holed stone in the steaming heat but shed no more tears. _Her Master didn't love her_. If he did, he'd never dare to part with her. But he did not, did not love her, and the understanding sank slowly into the pit of her stomach, where it finally rested like tombstone. Where will she go? What will she do?

_This was all Loki's fault_. If only he hadn't shown up… but then again, it was Lucifer who brought him to the house. This was Lucifer's doing. Perhaps he has been wanting to do this for a long time, and she was only caught in this by coincidence. Because of her fight with her mother, and the exile that came from it. _This was all Lily's fault_. If only she hadn't sent her to Hell… but then again, it all started with HER.

**_This was all her fault_**.

Mazikeen really wanted to come naked this time, for spite. Only because he'd told her to get dressed; but then again, what was the point in provoking him if he was now leaving. It's not as if he would punish her for it. And in any case, after considering the act she came to the conclusion it would only seem infantile and foolish. If he wants her to wear another one of her mother's dresses then that's fine. Just fine. Absolutely, perfectly FINE. Maz flung the cabinet door open and found-

An armour.

She squinted her eyes and reached to pick it up and examine it suspiciously. It was a modular leather armour of several pieces. It had shoulder pads and straps and pockets and sheaths to conceal many blades. It was made for a woman. A small woman of her size; and when she tried it on just to learn how terrible it was – she found it fit her like a second skin and that it was elastic and durable, and according to its texture… and… its scent… it was made _recently_. Could it be that…? No. It could not. Her Master (former Master) would not go out of his way to make something just for her. Firstly, he didn't have the skill; for he was perhaps a hunter but he was no leatherworker. Secondly, he was always busy. Too busy to even worry about his injuries, let alone his house or his meals. And finally, he cared for nobody.

However, when she glanced in the mirror as she stroked the fringes of the armor, and saw how impeccably it sat on her, she could not help but wonder… for it couldn't have been a accidental… plus this was the first time in a long while that she actually fancied her reflection. _'You are very beautiful, Mazikeen'_ , he had told her. But this was no time to admire herself in the looking-glass. It was time to say goodbye.

When Maz passed by the cabinet on her way out of the bathroom, she stopped to close it back and a note fell out of it and dropped to the floor. She didn't wish to read it thinking it would be too hurtful either way- whether it was personal or impersonal- so she just picked it up and shoved it into one of the armour's pockets.

"-and to strike when I give you the signal." Finished Loki what must have been a full explanation of their plan. He was standing in the parlor with his back to her, and because her steps were always quiet, since childhood, he never heard her coming. Lucifer was crouching on the burnt carpet, going through the contents of his tool-box and throwing stuff into the fire that was blazing in the fireplace: some old candles, strings of various lengths, handfuls of rusty nails (these burnt green and blue and violet). He, too, didn't notice her.

"You won't be there to give me a signal, I've already told you." Muttered the Morningstar –"I'm going alone."

"Wh-" stuttered Loki –"What – No, Lucy, I know you've said that. Several times. But you cannot leave me here."

"Why not?"

"Well, it's too hot-a-weather for a Jotun."

Mazikeen did not know what a 'Jotun' was, but for some reason it made her Master chuckle.

"I'm sure you'll manage, Loki. You've always been adaptable."

"Very well." Said Loki in a sly voice that made the hair on her hands stand up –"Then you leave me no choice but to hold you to your promise. We had a deal."

Lucifer stopped what he was doing for a second and gave Loki a wry leer –"Do not try your trickery with me, Loki-Skywalker, because that would be daffy, and you are not _daft_ ".

The Trickster snorted.

"Yes, we did have a deal." The Lord went on with his business –"And I have completed my part in it. I have freed you from your fate under the Tree-of-Death and I have given you your liberty and your … well, charms back. If you insist on calling them that." Lucifer picked up a mace decorated with spikes (Mazikeen's eyes widened) and tossed it into the fire as well –"Or have I promised you anything else?"

"No." Loki pursed his lips –"I just figured you might need a friend over there."

"You're not my friend." Said Lucifer.

"I saved you-"

"From what? Burning?" Lucifer reached his hand into the fire and turned it there, playing with the flames.

"Fine. You've made your point." Said Loki stiffly.

"You should really be happy, Loki-of-Asgard, this is an upgrade. Cease this whining, you were once a God. And you will soon be one once more."

"How so?" the Trickster raised an eyebrow.

"Read my mind and you shall know." Lucifer smiled secretly and resumed his rummaging through his things. Then the Trickster smirked too, but it was only a half-grin –"Let us get on with it, Lucifer." Said he -"Sunset is coming, and Death in its wake."

"Just a moment there…" Lucifer flipped over the case and finally located the bull-whip –"Ah, there it is!" he picked it up and held it in front of the fire –"Didn't know where this puppy had gone to, I was really not in _sound mind_ when I last used it…"

Seeing him playing with the whip in his hand like that, a shudder passed through Mazikeen's spine, remembering the lashes. These strong and firm blows that made her spasm and shoot into space, his strength and his grunts as he whipped her into the wall, the smell of his sweat, as he struck; the thing that was like fucking, except you don't fuck.

Then suddenly Loki's eyes were on her and she jumped –"Ooooh. I thought I heard some _erotic longing_ -" he stated, to her utter embarrassment –"Your servant here-"

"Is no longer my servant. And she is welcome." Said Lucifer and straightened with an effort –"She is also welcome to her thoughts, which are _private_." He said, granting Maz a meaningful look. She lowered her eyes, out of habit.

"Privacy is a relative thing." Said Loki, but Lucifer walked around him and stood in front of Maz. She could hardly control her breathing.

"Child of Lilith-" he began softly, then placed both his hands on her shoulder-pads. She now regretted ever putting them on, because she could not feel his touch through the hardened leather.

"She doesn't like it when you call her that." Said the Asgardian, biting on his nails –"Makes her think of her mother."

"I have no need for your commentary." Growled Lucifer.

"Yes, you do. But fine, just hurry up with this mushy farewell before I puke."

"Mazikeen." Began the Morningstar again, and this time he was touching her face with his palm. A soft palm. A manly palm that could make stars once, and put them in the skies, like diamonds. A palm that could hold a whip and strike with it. A palm, that had mapped her body. Once upon a dream. –"I see you accepted my gift."

"I have, with great gratitude, Sire-" ~please don't go~

"Oh, _please_!" muttered Loki in the background.

"I am happy that you did." Said he –"And I also understand your pain and your sense of loss; but please know that you are much better off without me. It is YOU that you need to pursue. And if you read the note I gave you-"

"She hasn't read it." Blurted Loki.

"Will you shut up?" said Lucifer to the Trickster.

"My lips are sealed, Lucy, but if you want our plan to transpire-"

"It will transpire when I decide!"

"Alright, alright." Loki raised his arms in a gesture of surrender –"Because the sun has already sunk over the hills. Just saying."

"Maz." Said Lucifer, ignoring the Trickster –"I just wished to say that I respect your decision not to tell me what had happened to your face, you were nothing but obedient and sweet, and I was out of line even asking-"

"For Valhalla's sake, it was a CURSE!" cried Loki impatiently, and with that Lucifer turned from Mazikeen and lunged at him, grabbing him by the collar of his robes –"You malodorous, attention-seeking ARSEHOLE!" and Mazikeen really thought the Lord was going to rip him open, and she even thought about coming to Loki's aid, like he came for hers- but then the sound of off-key trumpets came from somewhere and loudly vibrated through the air.

"Oh, blast it!" cried Lucifer –"She's early. I need a knife. Hurry." And he let go of Loki and began limping in the direction of the kitchen.

"For killing him?" muttered Maz, confused.

"No, for the enchantment! Get me a knife, Goblin! NOW!"

"Sire…" Mazikeen swallowed, noticing the tension rising in him –"You got rid of all the knives. Because of me…"

"Seven Hells." Panted Lucifer and strode back to Loki –"I'll just cut us with my fingernail-"

"Whatever for?" blinked Loki, looking placid.

"For mixing our blood. Now give me your hand."

"Nonsense." The Trickster dismissed him –"These methods are primitive. Didn't I tell you? I always prefer _kissing_ them." And without further ado and to Maz' complete amazement, Loki grabbed her Master by his hip and _kissed_ him with an open mouth. Her jaw dropped as Lucifer's wings drooped and were held to the sides of his body, as though he was relaxing… or maybe… enjoying it….

It was a passionate kiss indeed. Long and slow, and Mazikeen was jealous because she would have liked kissing him, but he'd never given her the chance. She watched as Loki deepened the kiss and was thinking about leaving- only she could not tear her eyes off of that sight. Then, just when she was about to tear up despite herself- Loki was shapeshifting and he was growing a pair of wings of his own! These were snow-white and grandiose- bigger than Lucifer's. Then Loki's clothes vanished. The muscles in his naked body were shifting and twisting under his skin, changing positions, stretching and pumping- until they were the mirror image of Lucifer's. His hair then changed its colour and style, to match the yellowy orange of her Master's, and finally his nose and facial features were molded anew. What the HELL were they up to?

When Loki broke the kiss there were two Lucifers standing in the parlor, but only one of them had an injury, and only one of them was true.

"Got everything you need?" asked Lucifer with irony, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"I believe I do." Said Loki with content, and flapped his wings, to test them.

"Plus something to masturbate to when you go to bed."

"Aye, why not? You truly are remarkable. As I am certain that your maid would confirm."

Lucifer chose to ignore that, and so did Mazikeen –"I suggest you switch the wings into my leather ones. I hardly ever wear these." Commented the Morningstar.

"What a pity." Loki switched to the taloned leather wings –"The white feathers are such a classic."

Lucifer rolled his eyes –"And pants too, or Death would never fall for that circus show."

The Trickster then obeyed reluctantly and Lucifer glanced out the window before reaching the key-bundle that hung on the wall –"Okay. Last things last I guess." He said while separating the keys from the ring –"This is the key to my bedroom-" he said and tossed a key to Mazikeen who caught it in the air with astonishment.

"What? Don't give me that face. This is the key to the front door-" he threw that one to Mazikeen, too. –"The key to the basement- but don't go there, it's gruesome." Mazikeen caught it –"The key to the stables, someone should take care of Maggot –" Mazikeen caught it –"The key to my wine collection- they're all shite-, the key to the guest rooms… hmmm… you know what? Just take the lot." And Lucifer threw the ring with its dozens of keys to Mazikeen, who caught it – her face pale and frightened.

"Hey!" protested Loki –"And what do I get?!"

"You? You get the key to my Kingdom, that is the key to Hell, and all the fun that comes with it."

*

He was but a particle again. The tiniest piece that makes light, and he dwelled in Loki's right eye. This was a good place to hide and it was also a vantage point for when Death should arrive. He would see what Loki saw, and he could speak straight to his mind. Loki stepped outside the house to greet Death with Mazikeen at his side. Lucifer had to admit that all-in-all the Trickster had imitated him to perfection. His tone, his gait and his expression were all right. He only envied Loki slightly for enjoying this so much, relishing being in Satan's skin. He had more joy being Lucifer than Lucifer ever did.

It was way after sunset when Death's Cadillac zoomed into view, making its way towards the castle like a desert beetle running on the dunes. The skies were burning pink and magenta and ginger, with marshmallow clouds parking atop each black hill. Lucifer was excited, and had he a chest at the moment, it would have been heaving.

"Your master is powerful!" said Loki to Mazikeen –"I can just feel it in _his body_."

"He's not my master anymore."

"Did he break your heart?"

Mazikeen turned and stepped on Loki's foot with all her might.

"Ahhh!" cried Loki –"If you wanna take it out on me, you're most welcome. But let us do it after our little show is over."

"I would never touch you." Said Mazikeen –"A parasite who indulges in taking other personas. An ameba. Stealing identities, because he owns none."

In his mind, Lucifer was smiling to hear her say that, and he would have commented on her little dialogue with Loki, only that then Death's car came to a halt with a screech of wheels, as usual, at the front of his house.

Loki didn’t move, which was the correct thing to do. The driver's door opened and Death stepped out of it and walked over to them, her hands in her pockets.

"Hiya, Lou." She said –"Happy to see me as always?"

"Your visits are becoming too frequent for my taste." Said Loki in _his_ voice –"And the trumpets that announce your arrival are getting on my nerves, cousin."

"Yeah, I get it. Things are getting rough on your little planet." She shrugged –"It's just-"

"Save it." Said Loki (a good one!) –"So what is it now? An evil cradle that suffocated a baby? An evil newspaper that had bad news written in it?"

"Go check it out." Said Death casually –"It's in the trunk. Don't be fooled by its size, for it is dangerous."

"Alright." Said Loki in Lucifer's skin and walked over to the car. As he did, particle-Lucifer could sense his escape getting closer and closer and he was edgy. And thrilled. He could hear Death chatting to Mazikeen in the background, but he could not make out the words.

Loki stepped towards the car, his footsteps were heavy on the desert ground and the movements of his body made particle-Lucifer dizzy. Then he opened the trunk and looked inside. For a second, Lucifer thought it was empty, but then Loki reached into it and picked up something tiny and held it between his thumb and his finger. –"You must be shitting me." He said and brought the thing closer to his eyes so Lucifer could see: it was an insect. Reddish-brown and tough looking, with a horn on its head- and it struggled in Loki's grip.

"I shit you not, Lou." Said Death from behind them –"Damn thing secretly eats trees from the inside. They seem fine, and then one day they drop on houses and stuff, drop on moving cars. Kill innocent people for no _reason_ -"

~Go! Now!~ said Loki with his mind, and Lucifer descended from his eye like a tear and fell into the trunk, and then the trunk lid was slammed on him. He never heard the rest of the explanation about the insect and the falling trees. If a tree falls and no one is around to hear it, then who gives a shit.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This song was what I had in mind when I pictured Hell. It is so vivid and rich and poetic. LOVE IT.


	20. Better the Devil you know than the Angel you don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer visits Death. This one is dedicated to TheLightdancer <3

_"Say, say, my playmate  
Won't you lay hands on me  
Mirror my malady  
Transfer my tragedy?_

_Got a curse I cannot lift  
Shines when the sunset shifts  
When the moon is round and full  
Gotta bust that box, gotta gut that fish_

_My mind's aflame_

_We could jet in a stolen car  
But I bet we wouldn't get too far  
Before the transformation takes  
And blood lust tanks and  
Crave gets slaked_

_My mind has changed  
My body's frame, but, God, I like it  
My heart's aflame  
My body's strained, but, God, I like it…" **['Wolf Like Me', TV on the Radio]** _

The car was on the move. Lucifer could hardly believe his _luck_ , if that was indeed luck. He heard the rumble of the engine as the machine sped towards the gates of his kingdom, and some horrible other noise which he later on figured was "music" that was coming from inside the car. Death was humming along to it and thumping on the dashboard off-beat. The journey to the gates would take him months at a time if he was flying or riding Maggot, but for Death it was a matter of hours and soon he felt the car stopping and heard the window sliding down.

"Alright there, Asmodeus?" said Death.

"Oh, YES, My Lady, pretty lady, I'm always alright when I see you!"

_Idiot._ Thought Lucifer.

"You have a good night, now!" called Death –"And keep those gates closed, I hear there might be some foul business going on in your Master's kingdom."

"There is nothing but foul business in here, pretty lady." Said Asmodeus –"I will keep the gates shutly tight as you said! Erm… tightly squeezed, that is."

"Bahh!" bleated his sheep head.

_Damn fool didn't change his appearance like Lucifer had told him to._

And then, to his relief, the car moved again and less to his relief the music was resumed. He made an effort to keep even his thoughts quiet because he didn't want to raise any suspicions. Not that he was noisy as a particle, but it was always better to be on the safe side. All he had to do now was hope that Death was on her way home, because if she was still on duty, this night in the trunk might be longer than he had intended. He was tense for what had to be hours. The heat in the trunk turned into freeze and according to the angle of the tilt he guessed that the car was going up a mountain. He did not know where Death resided, if she was indeed heading home, but it was intriguing to find out, as a matter of fact. The car was moving in a spiraling course and the wind outside swooshed. Hail was banging against the metal shield and the glass windows. He so wanted to see that hail. The last time he saw it was back in the Silver-City, watching it fall upon Eden during the first big flood. A beautiful thing, hail was. Lucifer slept.

The music was abruptly turned off, then the car came to a halt and he awoke. It was oddly quiet once the engine was shut down as well, and then he heard Death stepping out of the car and slamming the door. Then her footsteps echoed as she walked around it in her big heavy boots, shiny boots of leather. Then the trunk opened with a clank and he was blinded by a stream of white light. A dark silhouette of a female was forming against it- Death was looking down on him.

Before he had a chance to respond a giant black cat leapt into the trunk and sniffed about him, purring loudly. On second thought- it wasn't giant, but it was Lucifer who was still tiny.

"Now, now, Armageddon, doncha bother uncle Lou. He's tired after a long journey." She then picked up the cat and kissed it on the nose, then put it down next to the car. It immediately leapt into the trunk again.

"You can come out now, Lou." Said Death –"Silly animal won't leave you be and I honestly wanna go inside and have some hot beverage. I'm sure you could use one too."

Lucifer then hovered out of the trunk and materialized in front of Death as himself, saying nothing. He was indeed disappointed and had to rethink his steps, but stretching his black leather wings was a blessed change.

"That's better!" said Death cheerfully and handed him the cat so she could close the trunk. It purred and rubbed its chin against Lucifer's naked chest, smearing him with saliva. They were standing in a small room designed to accommodate the car. A _'garage'_ he heard them calling it.

"Come on now." Said Death and opened a wooden door that seemingly led to the house and he followed silently. –"Uh-uh." She said before he crossed the threshold –"Kitty stays outside. He's still a baby, destroys everything."

Saying nothing still, Lucifer put the kitten on the roof of the car and hurried to follow Death into the house and to shut the door before it had a chance to join them. He was indeed surprised to find out that Death's place was cozy and neat and that it looked… well, human. Apart from the candles that provided the light- everything else was electric and modern. They were standing in a living room that was connected to a spacious kitchen and a cream colored carpet covered the floor. A box that hung high on the wall emitted a warm current of air and hummed quietly. _Easier to operate than a fireplace._ Although there was a fireplace, too, but it didn't look like she was using it. 

"Have a seat, Lucy. I believe we need to talk." She gestured towards a green and comfy sofa and then tossed her car-keys upon the glass coffee-table that decorated the room. –"I'll make us some tea."

Lucifer took a seat on the sofa, only then realizing how his leg was still tormenting him- a grunt escaping his mouth.

"Some nasty wound ya got there." Said she while walking over to the kitchen.

"You should know." Growled Lucifer. That was the first time he spoke since she uncovered him.

"Me??" Death turned to half-glance at him –"Whatcha mean?"

"It reeks of DEATH- which I believe is you field of expertise." He gritted between his teeth.

"Hey, Lou? I know you're always looking for someone to blame for your own mistakes, but I got nothin' to do with that thing."

"Be at as it may, and whatever this is that you think your playing with, I won't leave this place before you fix it."

"Seriously. I invite you here out of the goodness of my heart, and this is how you replay me. Tsk tsk…" she opened a cupboard to take out a kettle and filled it with tap-water –"I've been meaning to ask you- are you only charming when - - ah, excuse me. You're never charming."

"What?"

"Except for that episode with Eve, she thought you charming. Always spoke highly of you." Death put the kettle on the stove and walked over to a different cupboard to get two china cups and two coasters- they were white and artfully painted with blue flowers and patterns of leaves. Death sure had nice things. "She said you were charming. Right before she died. Never spoke of her husband or her kids. She only remembered _you_. I thought that was weird… but of course, these were early days. Maybe you _were_ charming."

Lucifer gulped.

"Do you know how she died?"

"No." grunted Lucifer.

"She went to the lake and drowned herself there, when her teeth started falling out. She was 33. Isn't it strange that nobody knows how the first woman perished? She looked at her reflection, and didn't like what she saw, because she was changing, you see? Had some white strands in her hair and all of that… I offered her to come back again, have a nice life this time- and perhaps a nice husband, but she refused. Said she never wishes to be human again. She wanted to come back only as a _flower_. Cute, isn't it? I brought her back as a flower but they named it 'Lily', ironically…"

"Why are you telling me this?" Lucifer found he was upset.

"No reason, Lou. Just making conversation. You've been awfully quiet."

"I'm waiting for you to tell me what the HELL is going on." He blurted.

"Alright." Said Death and turned around, leaning on the kitchen counter with her elbows –"I came to your place to deliver a payload, seen Loki wearing your form, which was ridiculous, by the way, and irresponsible. Did you leave him with the key to Hell?"

"If you truly cared you would say something about it earlier, so spare me this reprimand."

"Alright."

"And then what?"

"And then I saw you getting into my trunk and I thought 'what the heck'. I mean, I might just hear you out, thought I'd take you in here for a while so we could have a chat. We are family."

"That is bullshit." Said Lucifer.

"No, we are family. Really."

"I know we are. Everything else you've said is a bunch of crap, so you better start leaning towards the truth unless you want me to get mad."

"Threatening me in my own home? That is stylish."

"Get to the point, cousin. I am losing my patience." Said the Demon-Lord.

"Fine." Death shrugged –"So I know how you want out. I might just have something to offer you."

"Loki said you could give me a new body and that I could go and live on Earth. That is all I'm after."

"I can't do that." Said Death.

"Oh, YES, you _can_ do that, but if you _won't_ that is a whole different story. Which is why I-"

"Which is why you wanted to sneak in here? Sneaking isn't going to solve all of your problems, Lou. It might just get you some new ones- doncha learn from your previous mistakes? And anyway, whatdya think? That I keep a storage room full of readymade bodies so you could just pick one and run along? That is preposterous." She laughed. Her laughter- bells and bubbles in the breeze. Like a melody.

And yes, that was preposterous, and it was not his plan at all, because he had intended to _strike_ at some point; but Death didn't know that. _She best not know_.

"Yes." Said Lucifer quietly and leaned back into the sofa, scratching his chin and changing tactics –"So what did you have in mind?"

"You really wanna know?" Death raised a painted eyebrow –"Promise you won't be a sulky teenager about it?"

"I won't sulk." Promised Lucifer, letting a tinge of cynicism into his voice and batting his eyes at Death. He knew he was handsome. Did she not just say she wanted to check how charming he could be. 

"Alright." Said Death casually –"So initially I wanted to talk to God. But you know how he went AWOL on us all, and isn't available really-"

Lucifer frowned –"Why would you wish to speak to him? Because of _me_?"

"Boy, are you self-centered…! I wanted to talk to him because of _me_."

"What about you?" puffed Lucifer.

"Well, like yourself, I've been having some questions about my job." She opened a drawer to take out two teaspoons –"But since I couldn't reach the almighty, I've opened some old books and read the fine print."

"I fail to understand how any of this has to do with _me_."

"It doesn't."

"You really are getting on my nerves." Concluded the Lord.

"You'll find that lavender is really good for the nerves." She said casually, and walked over to a plant, a _living plant_ that sat on the counter and cut some of its leaves with a pair of scissors. A faint scent of lavender rose into the air.

"Anyways, while reading I was reminded that my abilities have some features that you might find interesting."

"And why should I care about your job."

"Because I can offer you a vacation? From your _life_?" she turned around and winked at him.

"A _vacation_." Lucifer stressed the word –"I don't want a 'vacation', cousin. And I don't wish to be dead, if that's what you're offering."

"Yeah, but listen up. It would only be for a while, and once you're dead you'll be _my_ responsibility. Not theirs. And I could practically put you anywhere."

"No, thank you." Said the Morningstar. –"Now, how about that tea?"

"You promised you won't sulk, Lou."

"I am not sulking, only disinterested."

"Whatever." Said Death –"You know that's the best I can do for you."

_Not quite the best._ Thought Lucifer, but said nothing.

The kettle was then boiling. It broke into a sharp whistle so Death had taken it off the stove and placed it on a nice silver tray. Then the put the lavender leaves inside the kettle and the scent got stronger. She arranged the china cups on their coasters inside the tray.

"Of course, if you ever said yes, you'd have to prepare yourself for a different type of weather." Said Death casually as she opened a third cupboard –"I'm rather sure there were ginger cookies in there-" she muttered, frowning –"Well, we'll just have to settle for less, I guess." She tossed something small wrapped in plastic at his direction and shrugged as he caught it flying before it hit his face –"There's everything you need in there."

"Where?"

"In the energy bar, silly." Smiled Death and approached him, taking the energy bar from him and removing the cover –"Here. It peels right off. It's food. Go ahead, try it. Bet it tastes much better than Hell food."

Lucifer sniffed the bar suspiciously and placed it on the coffee table, still restless.

"Too scared to try it?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Suit yourself." Death poured some the tea into the decorative china cups and added sugar.

"What was that comment? About the weather?" inquired the lord.

"What's any comment about the weather?" answered Death cheerfully –"A pointless remark you slip in the conversation when there's nothing else to talk about."

With all her foresight she never saw it coming, for in a blink of an eye he was in front of her, his one hand around her throat and the other taking hold on one of her wrists. The cup she was holding dropped to the floor and shattered as she was violently pushed against the sink. The sweet scent of lavender rose from the steaming, spilled tea and flooded the kitchen. Death attempted to use her hands to shove him off, but with a strength only second to God's Lucifer bended two of the kitchen drawers' handles and after a short struggle managed to lock them around Death's slim wrists, so that she was nailed to the drawers behind her and he had one free hand now- to grab her by her hair.

"Stop playing." Said he, voice icy and jaded –"I know you, cousin. You haven't the _time_ to put on this show- sipping midnight tea with me, when people are dying. They need you to show them to the other side." He pressed his ill leg against her thigh, pinning her to the kitchen cabinet just below the sink –"What is this all about?"

"Well, perhaps you're not the only one who needs a vacation." She wrinkled her eyebrows at him –"Perhaps I am also sick of doing my job and I am looking for a little adventure."

Lucifer chuckled, his thumb tracing a vein in her neck –"That's a bunch of bullocks, cousin. You cannot simply quit this job."

"Why not?" she blinked, breathing heavily due to the pressure he was applying on her windpipe- but she didn't fight him anymore.

"Because the universe cannot exist without you. There _has to be_ Death. There has to be order to things-"

"Order?" she asked him honestly and he could feel her pulse beneath the pad of his thumb – surprised to find out that she had one -"Seriously, Lou, I never thought you were a _hypocrite_. You were the first among us to bring chaos to the order he created. You cannot tell me that I am out of line."

"You're out of line." Rumbled Lucifer, tightening his grip- but her complexion was so pale to begin with, he couldn't tell whether the power he was inflicting affected her.

"Because everyone needs to follow orders except _yourself_?"

"Exactly." Lucifer growled close to her face and banged her once against the counter; but the force driving him was not sexual. It was that raw surge of power that got him so intoxicated, the _hunter's_ incontrollable crave to put everything _down_.

"Will you cut that amateur display of intimidation, Lou?" she shifted in his hold so he could feel her ribcage against his chest. Fragile to the touch. _All of them girls were like birds_. –"I ain't scared of you, Mister. And ya know you can't kill me, so hands OFF." Then she kneed him in what would have been his sack- only it was idle at the moment and apart from making him grin, that blow did nothing.

"Right." Said Death –"Forgot about that part." She fluttered her pretty eyelids impatiently –"You're not _really_ a man."

The Demon-Lord slapped her with his free hand.

"Classy." Said Death, now angry -"We could have done it while drinking tea leisurely, but naaahhh, you prefer being a shithead: so, here's the thing. First of all: you're a shithead. Secondly, about the time- you know how time moves weirdly in your kingdom? Well, here, in mine, it _holds still_. In other words it doesn't exist, which is why I can have tea when I feel like it, or be pressed against the sink by a moron."

"Enough chitchat!" the Morningstar's grip on her hair tightened and pulled harder, so her head tilted backwards and she was forced to look up into the ceiling.

"Oh, I know why you're so pissed off, Lou. Now I get it! If I quit my job, there'll be no one left to help you, that it?"

_Yes, among other things_. It did scare him to think she'd be quitting. What will he do if she just decides to waiver her duties.

"Just give me a body and put me on Earth and then you could become a ballerina for all I care." There, under his nose, he could see a blue vein popping in her throat and thought about ripping it out.

"I'm not here to cater you, Lou, I won't do it."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want _unleashing Satan_ on my conscience, is why!" cried Death.

"And…the truth is out, finally." Said Lucifer grimly, licking his lips, releasing her throat and trailing a finger down her chest, over her black tank-top, between her small breasts. –"I only wish it wasn't that disappointing."

"Hey… I'm sorry." Said Death in an afterthought and swallowed – the gulp visible as it passed down her stretched throat –"I didn't mean to call you that. My bad."

"Ti's quite alright." Said The Demon-Lord indifferently –"I appreciate honesty." And with that he dragged his hand further down her body –"Now we've established it, you reckon I'm a monster."

"I don't."

"Now let's see just how _evil_ this monster can be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot tell you just how much I love this song and how I thrilled I woz to use it, finally, because it just fits :)


	21. A Well-Made Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer finds out that there are bigger forces in the universe...

_"I'm gonna make a mistake  
I'm gonna do it on purpose  
I'm gonna waste my time  
'Cause I'm full as a tick  
And I'm scratching at the surface  
And what I find is mine  
And when the day is done and I look back  
And the fact is I had fun fumbling around  
All the advice I shunned and I ran  
Where they told me not to run  
But I sure had fun_

_So I'm gonna fuck it up again  
I'm gonna do another detour  
Unpave my path  
And if you wanna make sense  
Whatcha lookin' at me for?  
  
_

_I've acquired quite a taste  
For a well-made mistake  
  
_

_I'm always doing what I think I should  
Almost always doing everybody good…" **['A Mistake', Fiona Apple]**   
  
_

"Gone." Said Gabriel.

"What do you mean by 'gone', brother dear?" inquired Raphael.

"I mean he's retreated to his chambers, closed the door, doesn't wish to see anyone or talk to any of us. Won't give us anymore orders. He's out of the picture. I believe he wants us to handle things on our own for a while."

"T'is a test." Said Sandalphon –"A trial. He wishes to see if we could be wise enough to-"

"We need his judgement." Said Raziel –"We are _not_ wise enough."

"Surely, we are wise enough, we are _perfect_." Said Gabriel.

The angels were gathered around a table made of crystal, and they were at a loss in the absence of their father. What to do with the Silver-City? What to do with mankind? What to do with the Garden?

"I reckon Michael should be leading us for the time being. He was closest to father since the beginning." Said Raphael.

"I agree." Said Sandalphon –"The _closest_."

And thus, it was decided that Michael should take the lead and run the Silver-City, and Lucifer who was watching and listening and saying nothing- felt his heart turning into stone, because it could weep no more. And so he left the council and wandered in the Silver-City, lost and forsaken, in all aspects, drifting without purpose and without thought. And he walked and walked for many footsteps until he heard laughter and he followed it because it was truly odd. The angels rarely laughed, and if they did, they did so shortly and dryly. The only times he'd ever heard ringing, tingling giggles was when he interacted with Eve, and when he saw Lilith mating with Adam- until just now. The laughter led him into an alley, and the alley curved into another alley that tilted into an underpass, for there was a city below the city he never knew existed. Here the walls were not made of crystal and glass, but of stone, and big lanterns floated in the air to keep it lit, and yet it was filled with shadows. The laughter echoed from the bricks and under his bare feet the road was not fully paved so had to watch his steps. Carried by his curiosity, the Angel of Light walked into a tunnel and saw that at the end of it was a cabin- made of wood- which was also unique and refreshing since only humans used wood for construction - for its duration was brief, like theirs. Lucifer opened the door to the cabin and gleeful music greeted him, making him smile despite himself, for the place was vivid and vibrating with positive energy. A life-force that he had found in Eve, but never amongst the host. 

And though only angels populated the place (to his disappointment), they carried a different air about them, and this jolly cabin was warm and humming with chatter and the sound of glasses clanking. The music came from a band that played the flutes and the violins and banging on wooden buckets to make a beat. The Angels who sat there were the lesser ones and they were drinking and huddled around wooden tables on wooden benches. Other Angels were dancing; and in any case- they were all busy, so no one noticed him come in.

He took a seat at an empty table near the door and he watched and he listened, as quiet as a shadow.

"Brothers, I am proud to tell you that I have taken your advice and also tried it, and it was spectacular!" said Ramael and raised a goblet into the air, laughing hard.

"Hear Hear!" called Ba'al and tapped his brother on his shoulder.

"Hear Hear!" said other angels and they all drank up.

"Another one 'bites the dust', as they say." Giggled Belial.

"It didn't taste like dust at all, brother dear." Said Ramael –"It tasted like… well, Heaven."

Azza, who was big and bulky had the richest laughter in the gang –"Hahahaha!"  
he laughed wholeheartedly –"The dew on their thighs… the honey under their tongues, and the HEAT, mmm-mm! Oh my word, I could simply drown in one of them, I tell you brothers. Fall asleep and never wake up, that is what I'd do, if I could."

This all sounded disconcertingly familiar, as if Azza verbalized his own private thoughts of Eve- and Lucifer gulped, suddenly frightened. He made the floating lantern above him blink and then turn dim, so he could lean in closer in secret and make out every word over the noise of music.

"Drown? Drown in one? One of _what_?" asked Lahash, who apparently wasn't listening until now; but Lucifer was bright enough to guess what this was about. Still in too much of a shock to form an opinion on the matter, though.

"Some of our brothers here, including yours truly" explain Ba'al, his face reddish and sweaty –"had flown down to Earth to dally with some human females, and we LOVED it! Haha."

"Dally?" Lahash was confused.

"Stab them with the lance." Said Eligor, who was the angel of lances and only cared about lances.

"Dip the stick deep into their deeps." Said Behemoth, who was the angel of the deep and only cared about depth.

"Slip them the snake." Said Orias, who was the angel of reptiles and only cared about serpents.

"I do not believe I comprehend." Blinked Lahash, who was a meek, sleepy looking angel with eyes almost white and silver hair to match it. 

"That is since you haven't grown one yet." Said Belial

"Grown? What was I supposed to grow?"

"A thing between your legs. A _joy-stick_ that makes the impossible possible, that takes you to greater heights once you place it in a woman."

"How do you grow one?" inquired Lahash, intrigued.

"You look at a woman long enough and-" Behemoth burped loudly –"It sorta sprouts."

"Aye. It bounces into being. Just like that. And it gets _hard_." Promised Azza knowingly.

"I cannot see anything unusual between your legs. You are but spinning tales." Said Lahash, disgruntled –"Just because my voice is low does not mean I'm stupid. I cannot speak any louder, I've already told you."

"No one said you were stupid." Said Azazel and hugged his little brother affectionately.

"I fail to understand why God would withhold it from us." said Ba'al –"Such a divine pleasure! And he only gave it to Adam, that ungrateful brat!"

"We really ought to thank _Lucifer_ for opening that gate for us." Declared Azza –"He was the pioneer and he truly-" Lucifer didn't hear the rest of that praise because he got panicked and made his hair grow thicker and longer, to cover his face.

"Shouldn't we call him 'Satan' now?" asked Lahash.

"Bahh! I'd never call him by that hateful name!" roared Azza and banged on the table –"For he indeed brought us nothing but light and laughter! To Lucifer!" he called and raised his goblet. Lucifer's breath was caught in his lungs with dread. He wanted to crawl under the table but dared not move.

"To Lucifer!" answered other angels and they all drank.

Angels did not need to eat or drink to sustain themselves, only humans did, and so the fact that they were consuming liquids in such quantities amazed him. What were they drinking? And for what _reason_?

"When will you go again to visit these wonder women?" asked Lahash –"And could I join you in your enterprise? I would not get in your way, brothers. I swear."

"You'd have to keep quiet about it." Said Azazel, no longer laughing –"Real quiet."

"I don't think it's a problem." Joked Ba'al –"Our brother is so quiet that even a hair dropping to the floor makes more noise."

"You must never tell a soul about it." Waned Ramael.

"Aye, especially never mention it in the presence of the four 'pure' ones. You know. Or we'd all get into a lot of trouble."

"You mean-"

"Yes." Whispered Belial –"Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel and Michael. The pious ones. In fact, you better just stay away from them altogether."

"What… what sort of trouble could we get into?" whispered Lahash back, because whenever someone else whispered, he figured he should do so as well.

"Have you seen the burning strings at the center of the Silver-City?" Said Belial grimly –"They were formed to restrain angels who stray. To _punish_ them. They would be tied there for all to see. To be degraded and humiliated. And to suffer pain. God has already given Lucifer a punishment, but for those who'd dare follow his footsteps- the burning strings await."

"Oh." Said Lahash, clearly horrified –"I won't tell anyone. I swear on my wings."

"Good." Said Azza –"However, there are other issues. Sad ones, that slightly spoil the fun."

"What issues?" Lahash's eyes were so big by now he could have swallowed Azza just by staring at him like he did.

"T'is the girls… them women…" Azza wiped a tear that slid down his cheek, which seemed rather pitiful considering his size –"They're only human, you see. _They die_."

A twin tear dropped from Lucifer's eye, for Eve, for Abel, for Cain. It rolled on his perfect nose and hit the rough wooden table he was bending over.

"Oh." Whispered Lahash.

"You get to know them once, you return the next time, and they could be very old, or they may not remember you, or they would be with another and won't want to see you, or they would hate you for abandoning them for long periods, although you never meant to…" Azza sniffed loudly and blew his nose into his massive wing –"Tough place, that Earth is."

"But the children, tell him about the children!" encouraged Ba'al.

"Ah." Azza's expression brightened somewhat –"The children are wonderful. They're precious. Each and every one of them!"

"You've… produced … o….of… _offspring_ with these women?" stuttered Lahash. Lucifer's throat tightened and he felt his stomach knotting. He remembered the lamb crashing against that rock, its head breaking in half like a big fruit, its blood staining its white coat. Its eyes remaining wide-open, reflecting the colour of the skies. He remembered Cain running hysterically in the other direction, to hide in the shadows, never calling for help. He hated himself.

"Aye, many of us did." Said Belial –"We do wear a smaller figure of ourselves when we go down there, but the children turned out… well,-"

"Big." Azza laughed.

"Gigantic." Corrected Azazel.

"And they… do they have wings?" asked Lahash.

"No. But they have our good looks. And our size. And they seem to survive for a longer time. Perhaps they're even immortal, like us. It's too soon to tell." Finished Azazel.

"I don't think I wish to go anymore." Said Lahash, honestly –"It just sounds… _wrong_."

_Because **it is wrong**._ Lucifer thought.

"Your loss." Said Ba'al –"But if you change your mind, we meet on the icy planes at the edge of the Silver-City when the Earth's moon is full and in level with Eden- for both practical and symbolic reasons. If you do come, come in disguise. Something very small like a grain of dust- which is how Lucifer did it the first time."

Filled with shame and sorrow, Lucifer got up and walked over to what seemed to be the self-service point- and grabbed himself a drink.

* 

"I'm not into bad boys, Lucifer." Said Death dismissively, as down down went his hand, almost to her navel –"It's guys like you who make girls swoon with their dark history and their _mystery_ ; but in the end and underneath it all you're nothing but a little frightened _boy_ who cries in bed at night because he's so _damn lonely_. And you know why? Because you think you could only make a girl love you by _forcing_ her into it."

"I'm working on changing that reputation." Muttered Lucifer, focused on feeling her up –"Although I've always wondered if you were cold down there."

He pulled her tank-top out of her tight jeans and dragged it up her belly, slowly, relishing the act, like stripping an animal from its skin. –"I don't think I remember you ever being in a relationship… and you lecture me about loneliness?" he circled her exposed navel with his forefinger –"It must be sad, never getting fucked."

Death fell right into that trap –"Just because I keep my business discreet, doesn't mean I don't _do it_." She huffed.

"Oh?" Lucifer pretended to be interested and released somewhat his grip on her hair, so that she could look him in the eye –"Boys or girls?"

"Don't sink that low, Lou."

"There's an idea." Answered the Morningstar with a glitter in his iris, and before she knew it he was down on his knees with his face at her crotch.

"You gotta be kidding…" Death began kicking him to drive him off of her –"I'm not into you, you sonofabitch! I thought you came here looking for a body-"

"And find one I did."

"LUCIFER!"

"Yes?"

"You're acting insane!"

"Which has always led me to adventures." Said he and managed to rip out the button of her jeans with his teeth, despite her frantic kicking. "What happens to you when you lose control?" he held both her legs against the cupboard behind her –"Do you get as _hot_ as you look?" and so he pulled down her zipper- also with his teeth, revealing a patch of silk, white underwear –"White?" he wondered –"Doesn't that spoil your image?"

"I don't think of my image when I'm about to meet you!"

"And when you're about to get naked?" He was only toying. Never seeking to see this through, since she didn't want him whatsoever- However, having her at his mercy was thrilling, especially after she'd annoyed him persistently. Going in and out of his kingdom as though it were easy. Throwing trash on his doorstep and telling him off, smiling all along- because Death was always smiling. Except for now.

"Stop it!"

"Or what?"

"Or I'll make you sorry."

"I've been sorry for most of my existence, as you well know." Said Lucifer impassively before making a wet trail with his tongue from the rims of her underwear and upwards, across her belly, still holding her legs put –"Threaten me with something exciting."

"I am DEATH." Said Death, humbly, gratingly, because he knew by now that she was sick of being it –"I could simply uncreate you."

"You could." Muttered Lucifer, licking his way up until his head was between her breasts, under her top. She did not wear a bra, but it wasn't strictly sex he was after, for all her attractiveness –"If you had the power." He locked his teeth around the medallion she was always carrying. Her ANKH. A symbol of life, ironically, allegedly nothing but an accessory, that was now cool and electrifying on his tongue- because there was a life force in it, because it was magical.

"Lucifer. Don't!" cried Death but it was much too late. He ripped the necklace off her neck and stepped back with an immense sense of triumph.

"Did you say something?" he asked, innocently.

"Lucifer-"

"What happened to calling me 'Lou'?" he teased –"Not feeling so friendly anymore, are you?" he played with the Ankh between his fingers –"Say it again, that I am not a man." He said, anger in his voice.

"You are not a man." Said Death, looking tired –"Only _boys_ play with _fire_ , and that thing you hold will _backfire_ at you, because you were never meant to use it."

He'd never seen her like this before. Death was always so strong and so cheerful – but now she just seemed worried; and once again, he wished he didn't have to play the villain, but it was embedded into his character. Like feathers to a bird. He just couldn't resist being it. This was his nature.

"We could negotiate." He said stiffly and stood in front of her.

"Fine." Said Death to his surprise –"Whatcha want for it?"

"I've already told you like ten times."

"What?" chuckled Death, but the chuckle turned into a cough and she looked sickly. Lucifer then almost regretted the entire thing. The Ankh in his hand burned, and he just wanted to put in around her neck, to put things right and to fly off into the night, never to return again- but then –"Give you a body and put you on Earth? Because you're so flooded with nostalgia? Fine, I'll do it." She said, coughing violently again –" _But it won't be what you think."_

"Alright." Said Lucifer timidly and hurried to place the Ankh back in her hand, then stepped backwards again. He hated to admit how he was afraid.

"Figures." Said Death and smiled weakly –"You're not half as bad as you look. Only suffering."

*


	22. The Devil in the Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, this one is a bit "dry", but required. Lucifer has a long conversation with Death and then finally gets to Earth in a human body like he'd planned to. Next one is gonna balance things out when he first meets Ivy. promise :)

_"Your body may be gone, I'm gonna carry you in.  
In my head, in my heart, in my soul.  
And maybe we'll get lucky and we'll both live again.  
Well I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. Don't think so.  
Collected my belongings and I left the jail.  
Well thanks for the time, I needed to think a spell.  
I had to think awhile. I had to think awhile._

_Well that is that and this is this.  
Will you tell me what you saw and I'll tell you what you missed,  
when the ocean met the sky.   
You missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye.   
When the earth folded in on itself. _

_And said "Good luck, for your sake I hope heaven and hell  
are really there, but I wouldn't hold my breath."   
You wasted life, why wouldn't you waste death? **['The Ocean Breaths Salty', Modest Mouse]**   
  
_

It was later September in Aberdeen, Scotland and the hills were patched with yellow and brown. Some leaves were still in the trees, resisting the winds of autumn and hanging for dear life. The songbirds were picking dries berries from the bushes and the rabbits were peeking amongst the wild orchids' bloom - the leftovers of the summer. Soon it will all be gray and muddy. _Just like his life._ Professor Gerard Morgan was on his way back to the cabin since his morning walk was shortened due to an annoying drizzle; plus he had stepped in a puddle that had been wickedly camouflaged by a pile of damp weeds (that seemed perfectly safe to step on at first glance, but weren't really). And now his socks were soaked. He made his way slowly up the hill and stopped for a rest every once in a while, to catch his breath- for he was not as young as he used to be, like they say, and his body was creaking and squeaking like an old swing. Once he'd entered the wooden cabin he hung his yellow raincoat on a hook near the door, and removed his glasses to wipe them with his sweater (same one he's been wearing for the past two weeks- Martha wouldn't have approved) before putting them back on. He farted noisily – a long and trumpet-like blast- and relished the fact he could do so freely and did not have to hold it in, because nobody was there to enjoy the sound or smell rather than himself. Martha wouldn't have approved, obviously. She would have hit him on his miserable ears with 'The Guardian' rolled in her greasy hand to make a weapon and holler 'You geezer! You goon! You coot!' and chase him all the way to the living-room where he would continue farting, on purpose, using different patterns and levels of audacity to make it into a concert. 'So terribly sorry!', he would say in-between measured releases of flatulence, choking on his own laughter, 'Can you blame me for being an artist, dearest?' ~fart~ 'T'is but music! It needs to be out in the open!' ~fart~. And Martha would get awfully mad. But not mad enough to leave him. Never that kind of mad. But Martha was dead now, and it was irreversible. Like a fart. And much more… well, dramatic. Much less festive. Just… the cruelty of nature, or the cruelty of our intelligent makers- to let us bloom and wither for no _reason_ ; whether we were randomly made or deliberately created = all we were was dust in the wind.

Humming, The Professor sat down on a stool to take off his shoes and socks and then walked over to the cluttered kitchen and placed all of the above in the toaster-oven, setting the temperature to 80 degrees and the timer for ten minutes. He had learnt that that was the best way to get them dry and warm asap, since the other method involved walking all the way to the students' dorms and using the machines there- which was always more than embarrassing. After getting himself a fresh pair of socks from the dishes rack, he got to the mini fridge and picked up one of the half-eaten tuna sandwiches he was storing there. These he got for free from the Cafeteria. He also made himself instant tomato soup using some tap water (the electric kettle had been broken for a while now) and settled in bed to watch telly – but his favorite show- 'Ancient Aliens'- hasn't begun yet, because he was early to come home this morning. Despite the programme mainly being an insult to intelligence and the host being a tad too orange to his liking, it tapped into some interesting ideas from time to time - and these in turn used to spark up his own imagination. (Martha would have DEFINITELY not approved). His chin was shaking as he lifted himself on the pillow to try and sip the soup from the plastic cup without actually sitting up- an effort of the muscles. He wanted to put the sandwich aside and missed the nightstand, so it rolled to the floor into a colony of ants that was already there. "Bugger!" he muttered into his silver and gold beard, then his other hand failed to follow the instructions from his brain and zigzagged on its way to his mouth, spilling the tomato soup all over his moustache.

"BUGGER!" he yelled this time, but it sounded more like 'UGGAH' which was peculiar and would even cause him to panic- only his body went into complete shutdown, like a washing machine unplugged from its outlet whilst still foaming. Professor Morgan dropped back unto the pillow, never knowing that he did, the cup of tomato soup clutched in his hands over his chest- like a cross held in a silent prayer. His mouth frozen in the shape of a perfect 'O'. His eyes wide open behind a pair of glasses hung askew.

*

Then he was on a white plane. In a white hall. Standing and staring into nothingness. He put his palm to his brow to shade it and see if he could make out any familiar details in this eerie vastness; but the whiteness had no beginning nor end and so he reached the inevitable conclusion: he had been abducted by aliens. _Finally_.

"Hello!" called out the Professor, waving his hand with enthusiasm –"Is this the mother-ship? You can show yourselves, ancient Gods! I won't be frightened!"

"Are you sure about that?" a voice to his right made him jolt and turn his head sharply, almost twisting his poor neck. There was a woman there, pale as lime and dressed in black and… _smiling_.

"Erm…" muttered Professor Morgan and lowered his waving hand, turning on his heels to face her –"Who are you? Where are the _aliens_?"

"Not in this place, I'm afraid." Answered the girl –"You know who I am, Gerard."

"No." he said strictly, shaking his head –"NO. This isn't a good time. Send me back." Terror seized him all of a sudden and he was backing away from her, looking over his shoulder to locate the exit to that horrible, horrible place. He'd rather be operated on by the extra-terrestrials, he'd rather have them installing probs in his body and tracking him for the rest of his life. But not _this_. Not now.

"You won't be surprised to hear that when I come it's never a good time for anyone." Blurted Death grimly –"No one is EVER happy to see me. Not even my own family, imagine that!" she giggled humorlessly. Her laughter: bells and bubbles in the breeze, like a melody. The old professor gazed at her with awe, and he was charmed, despite himself. –"I see." He said, licking his dry lips –"I can imagine it would make you feel very lonely."

"You know all about loneliness, doncha, chap?"

"I get by, if that is why you're taking me. Loneliness doesn’t bother me, for I do not live for myself anymore."

"Good time to go then, after all!" declared Death cheerfully.

"No." said the Professor and found himself taking her hand in his –"You don't quite understand, Lady. I am living for my _research_. It _must_ see the light of day, even if I never do again. It must. A work of 30 years! My… my **_creation_**. The only thing I was ever good for." He tapped on her hand with his other palm and looked upwards to catch her eyes. And when he stared into the eyes of Death, he felt the way a droplet feels when it falls into the ocean and loses itself among the swirling currents of big waters.

"I am sorry, but you are out of time." Said Death sympathetically –"I-"

"But it's done!" cried Mogan –"It's finished, lady! It only needs publishing. PLEASE, I am begging you, just let me get back there to have it out and printed, to get it to the public; It is _imperative_ that I do so, for it is worth more than my life." He never knew when he had started sobbing, but he was sobbing in earnest now –"Without it, my life would have been a complete waste."

"Oh." Said Death squeezing his hands in hers –"Professor Morgan, you've had a severe _stroke_."

"Not the first one!" cried the Professor hopefully –"I may survive it yet again! I may rise… like… like the phoenix!"

"I am sorry, Gerard." Death held his chin with cool fingers, felt even through his thick beard –"Your memories, your personality- the unique electrical connections that make you YOU- were all _erased_ from your physical brain down there. Even if I do send you back into your body, you wouldn't know what to DO with it. You wouldn't even be able to _recognize_ yourself…"

For some reason he knew her words to be the truth, and though it took some time for the message to sink in, he could sense the full gravity of it once it did. He was dead, and dead was all his work – stuck on a virtual cloud in the cybernetic universe and known to nobody but himself. 

"So." Sniffed Morgan brokenly –"So there is no hope." And he let his hands drop to the sides of his body.

"Actually…" Death hummed, pondering –"There might be."

*

Once he released her (feeling mortified in more than a thousand ways) Death went to Limbo to fetch him a body like she'd promised, leaving him by himself in her living-room. He barely managed to limp his way to the sofa when she reemerged in the hallway, smiling, as if nothing shady ever happened between them –"I've found you a _donor_ , Lou." She announced –"You're one lucky bastard."

"That was _quick_." Said Lucifer, confused, and sat down because the weight on his ill leg was getting too much to handle.

"Quick?" Death chuckled "I had to interview almost 500 newcomers and the queue out there got super long. Anyways," she shrugged –"I believe I got just the perfect one. And he's willing to trade, so no monkey business. It would be a fair and square deal, if you accepted."

Then she walked over to the fridge and got herself a can of some fizzling liquid- it hissed when she opened it and smelled nice. She took a seat on the sofa next to him and looked him in the eye. Lucifer lowered his gaze, pretending to scratch his knee.

"I'm not angry with you anymore." She offered, casually –"So you can stop looking so guilty. Ya know… I don't believe I truly have any long-lasting sentiments. I guess it comes with this job." Then she was fluttering her pretty eyelids once more, under her black fringe that reached all the way to her eyebrows –"So whatcha say?"

"I'll take it." Grunted Lucifer, quick to answer, before she changes her mind –"I'll take it right now. Bring it on."

"Oh, woah, just a sec here, Lou. There's some stuff ya gotta know before you dive into this adventure, alright? Sheesh, are you impatient!"

"Born this way." Muttered the Demon-Lord and folded his arms on his chest, his wings twitching nervously –"So what are the crucial details you're so keen on telling me before we do this."

"Sordid details following:" Death cleared her throat and placed the can on the coffee-table. She raised her bum slightly to reach into her back pocket and ended up with a rectangular yet flat object in her hand. When she pressed on it, it glowed and beeped- this was a phone, he knew from Hell's relatively new residents, but it was alien looking and mystical. The once little lost children of God were surely getting more and more sophisticated and apt, while they, himself and the other super-beings, remained quite static. Looking at it, Death said: "Archeology Professor Gerard Louis Morgan, commonly known as 'Lou'"-

"Lou?" The Morningstar blinked –"You're taking a piss."

"Nope."

"Alright, go on."

"Used to be highly appreciated for both his academic work and his superb teaching. Had his first stroke five years ago, after losing his first and only wife and only living relative– Martha Morgan. Things have deteriorated since then for poor Gerard- mentally, physically and financially. He's not teaching anymore, and hasn't been too coherent or sane. The University of Aberdeen was willing to provide accommodation for him, for old time's sakes. That's nice, isn't it?"

"Nice? How _old_ is this human exactly?" the Demon-Lord asked, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"67…" answered Death, cringing.

"67! But that's ancient for human beings." Protested Lucifer –"Can he even _walk_ properly?"

"Can **_you_**?"

Frowning, unaware of his doing and out of habit Lucifer reached for the can on the table and downed it into his mouth, mistaking it for his usual drink. The taste of it was phenomenal! refreshing and surprising, as if a rainbow of flavors just exploded on his tongue. Sweet and sour and tinging with a cinnamon kick and a salty twist. He moaned and drained the entire content of the can, sucking on it like a calf clinging to an udder. He hadn't tasted _anything_ that good even before he was Hell's ruler.

Death laughed so hard she had to hold her stomach –"Goodness, Lou." She giggled –"You'll find plenty of that on Earth when you get there. Just don't overdo it. It's bad for your human body."

"Speaking of which-" said Satan, forgetting the marvelous drink and focusing on his mission –"You will at least fix this cursed wound before you put me in this broken-to-begin-with human form, right?" he pointed at his ailing leg.

"No can do, Lou." Death tilted her head and her straight raven hair swayed from side to side –"I've already told you, this has absolutely nothing to do with me."

"But it-"

"Smells of Death, so you've said. No. It smells of _sabotage_." She corrected him –"This is witchcraft, and this injury isn't even local- it shows in all of your bodies. The ethereal one, the astral one, even the emotional one. You can't just get away from it by switching vessels. Sorry."

It was time for him to admit the fact that he had no control over that wound or knowledge of its nature. He told himself he'd be carrying nothing when going on his journey, but apparently, he was carrying _something_ with him after all, and it truly was a burden. 

"How long before my leg falls off?" he asked, hoping to find some reassurance in the form of a joke she'd use.

"Dunno, Lou." Said Death –"You really need to find a way to treat it, and then figure out who was responsible for it."

His first instinct was to ask for her help, but the memory of what happened between them and the chilling sensation of the ANKH in his hand prevented him from venturing into that zone, for he was still ashamed of himself. He was in no position to ask her for anything.

"I thank you, Lady of the Night." He said sincerely "And I regret-"

"Being a jerk?"

"acting rashly." He finished, pursing his lips –"I'll have that body now."

"You'll have it after signing this contract." Death grinned as she offered him a bunch of papers attached together with a clip. Lucifer knew this drill like the back of his hand and he flipped over to the last page and conjured a quill, decorating the dotted line with a stylish combination of loops and angles that was his signature. "There." He said and waited impatiently while Death made two more copies and began making the last preparations for the transformation.

"Remember." She warned –"This human body is only a disguise meant to help you keep a low profile. You can wear your own form whenever you like, but if you get caught **_it's on you_** , and I had nothing to do with it."

"I know." The Demon-Lord got to his feet.

"If anyone thinks you're odd down there, just blame it on the many strokes. Morgan has the medical record that proves he's a bit of a looney."

"Okay."

"Take this phone, you're gonna need it." Death handed him the phone she was using moments ago –"It belonged to Morgan and I'm rather sure everything you need to know about him is in there."

"But how do I-"

"You're the most intelligent being that was ever created, you'll figure it out." She smirked.

"Right." Lucifer began clicking buttons and was soon enough browsing through photos of landscapes, dull stones and meaningless flowers. Very informative indeed. 

"C'mon." said Death and started walking towards the hallway, he followed her without seeing where he was going, for his eyes were on the phone, and almost knocked over a pedestal supporting a big vase –"OH. And **DON'T** use his sperm to make any babies, Lou, ya hear me?? Or it would end up reaaalllll badly for ya."

Lucifer frowned –"Even if I were interested in making babies, like you call it, I find it hard to believe that anyone would want to sleep with _that_." He showed Death a photo of the Professor looking at the camera, bits of cake in his beard and a large stain on his collar.

"You'd be surprised at just how attractive young students find their older professors, Lucifer."

"Curiouser and curiouser." He muttered, trying to picture the old professor banging into a luscious maiden and wondered if such an activity might have worsened his physical condition. Perhaps that is why he's been having them strokes in the first place.

"Oh, and what last thing." Said Death and turned towards him as they arrived at the door that lead to Limbo.

"I'm not a _man_ all in all-" he said, voice dripping with venom –"So I guess you needn't worry about me impregnating anyone." 

"Lucifer." Death folded her arms –"You're the devil. Expecting you to behave would be ludicrous, so when you came here I knew you were gonna lose it at some point. You can torture yourself with qualms about it, if you like, but I'm seriously over it so you can ditch the passive-aggressive chant. I refused to help you because I think you're being an idiot and because wherever you go there's a potential disaster which I personally don't wanna be responsible for. However, once I thought this over, I figured sending you there would be the best way to show you just how bad of an idea this is."

"So you've given me a useless body to prove a point." Grunted the Demon-Lord.

"Nope, that was Destiny."

"Send him my gratitude."

"I don't have to, he sees everything." Death shrugged cutely –"Anyways, what I was about to say is don't hurry up to publish Professor Morgan's research, because once you do, the deal would be over and you'll be back here again."

" _Publish his research_??" Lucifer grimaced –"Why would I do that??"

"Erm… it's in your contract, starshine? The one you've never bothered looking at?" Death winked at him –"Your deal is with the Professor, not with me."

"But that is-"

"Unexpected? Well, you know what they say. _The devil's in the details_. You'll have a chance to look at it later. You'll find a copy of it in your pocket- I suggest you read it thoroughly this time. Too-da-loo, Lou!"

And then she opened the door and he was shoved into a blinding white.

*


	23. A Devil in Disguise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A longish one, but mostly just Lucy and Pam's first interaction, so a lot of talking. soz! Things will spice up soon enough.

_"Some velvet morning when I'm straight  
I'm gonna open up your gate  
And maybe tell you 'bout Phaedra  
And how she gave me life  
And how she made it end  
Some velvet morning when I'm straight_

_Flowers growing on a hill, dragonflies and daffodils  
Learn from us very much, look at us but do not touch  
Phaedra is my name_

_Flowers are the things we know, secrets are the things we grow  
Phaedra is my name…" **['Some Velvet Morning', Lee Hazelwood]** _

When he opened his eyes, Lucifer was gazing up at a wooden ceiling decked with spiderwebs. There was chattering and music coming from a machine somewhere in the room and his sweater and face were wet. It took him two seconds to realise that the wetness was created by a smelly tomato soup that had spilt all over his upper body at some point before he came into wearing this identity. He sat up in the Professor's bed and looked about him with total disgust: the room was a complete mess. No. 'A mess' would be a _compliment_ because the place seemed as though it had been bombarded by a cannon full or rubbish. Everything was everywhere: the desk buried under piles of books, magazines and used plates. The shelves packed with overflowing boxes of which content he did not have any desire to unravel; and the floor unseen beneath layers of more books, electric cables, empty bottles, half-full bottles and just bottles of every shape and size. And the place stunk. It _reeked_. If anyone told him this was the real Hell, he would have believed it.

And then there was his body. Lucifer got up and tried to work the legs. Compared to his lithe and limber angel figure this was a lumbering frame that did not respond very adequately to his wishes. In addition, the Professor was slightly shorter than he was and definitely not as quick. He figured out that particular detail when he tried to walk and stepped in something slippery, lost his balance and signaled the arms to stop him from falling, but only managed to grab the nightstand once he was already on the floor. His glasses flew from his nose – and that was when he found out that he was blind as a bat without them. "Damn you, Morgan!" grunted Lucifer –"Damn you, Death, you little vixen!" for now he knew that she had tricked him on purpose. To teach him a lesson, perhaps. _To punish him, just for the sake of it_. She must be laughing at him, wherever she is. Getting up from the floor was also a complicated operation for this useless human. On the first attempt he pulled the entire nightstand down with him, and the heavy drawers slid out of their slots and ended up on his leg. On the second attempt he dislocated the bed's headboard and on the third attempt, using the windowsill for leverage (it seemed solid enough) he banged his head against the open pane because it was _fucking invisible_. But he was finally on his feet, thank God.

Now he had to search for the glasses, so he spent some five minutes walking about the cabin like a Yeti with his arms stretched forwards and ducking every once in a while to pick up something from the floor that looked like the glasses to a semi-blind human but was either a pen, a pencil or a screwdriver. When he eventually located them, it wasn't in the manner he'd hoped, because an ominous crushing sound told him of their whereabouts, which was under his foot. Fortunately for him the lenses weren't damaged, but the frame was now uneven and while one earpiece sat perfectly on his ear, the other stuck up like an antenna. Sighing, Lucifer made his way to the bathroom and first had to seal his nose with two fingers. Like the rest of the cabin, this room was a monument of junk that could only be described as an archeological site, fitting its mole-like owner. After shutting his eyes and taking several deep breaths to gather the composure that would allow him to tackle the situation, the Morningstar first looked in the mirror.

"Oh my god." He whispered while touching the beard with revulsion. There was an old man standing there, staring back at him in the looking glass. His face was a mass of coarse hair – a blend of white, blonde and silver. You could call it facial hair, if you wanted to, but it seemed more as though an animal carcass was pasted to the Professor's face. The wrinkly eyes behind the glasses were pale hazel and watery, and his forehead was furrowed with deep lines. In the middle of his face was a large hooked nose with a red tip and the tomato soup remains that were sprayed across this spectacle didn't improve the picture. Apart from that, the Professor did have sandy, rich and wavy hair, which appeared to be the only good feature about him.

Unwilling and unready to deal with the rest of it, and yet desperate to feel more at ease in Mogan's body, Lucifer grimaced as he began to undress. The sweater was the first to go, and then the undershirt. The Demon-Lord almost puked to see the naked, sickly-white chest that was also covered in hair, like a tattered carpet. He gulped as he unbuckled the belt and unzipped the trousers, letting them drop to the floor and trying to ignore the guy's chicken legs and the dirty underpants he was wearing. Oh, how sad were the ramifications of being old and living on your own. The guy obviously didn't bother to even clean himself- and if the dirty clothes weren't proof enough of his negligence, his sour, pungent body odor stood as solid evidence.

The good news was that the cursed wound wasn't that horrible on Morgan's thigh. Perhaps the transition had weakened its severity somewhat, and perhaps it needed time to seep into this human form. Be it as it may, it didn't look like the leg was about to fall off anytime soon or to fill up with worms, which was a blessed development. He was coming to the last part- the part he feared the most. Lucifer scrunched his face as he pushed down the underwear and looked up into the ceiling, as if hoping for salvation. It took another series of deep breaths before he dared glancing downwards- and seeing Morgan's reproductive organs. These, as expected, were hideous. A shriveled penis rested in a nest of more wild hair, like a pink, fat, one-eyed piglet, and beneath it his testicles were dangling like pendulums. **YUCK**. And Death was worried about him fucking people. _What a joke_.

Not wanting to examine the thing any further, Lucifer pulled off his socks and stepped into the shower. The shower curtain, like everything else in this house of horrors, was covered in moldy spots and brown at the end- he didn't wish to know why. But at least the water was warm and nice, it felt good as it fell on his skin and he washed every single bit of the Professor's body using all the soaps he could find there and repeating every action three times.

When he was satisfied Lucifer wrapped himself in a stale towel that smelled like a wild boar and looked in the mirror again, but this time he was determined to make this guy into something more bearable –"Sorry, Professor." He said while picking up the razor from next to the sink –"I know this hairy declaration of manliness was probably dear to you, and you may have even thought it attractive, but the raccoon on your face has to go." And with that, and without remorse, Lucifer shaved Morgan's massive beard and moustache with long, careful strokes, until the face in the mirror was naked and smooth and the sink clogged with piles of hair and he was content. In fact, behind all that hair the professor's face was not at all too shabby. He had a nice jawline and handsome cheekbones, and his lips were thin, but they had a good shape to them. All in all, this was a fine-looking lad, and Lucifer wondered why anyone would want to hide such a face; but Professor Morgan was a looney, like Death said, and perhaps he didn't need a _reason_ for doing or not doing anything. After that, Lucifer made his way back into the bedroom. He cursed as he saw that what made him trip before was a tuna sandwich- now smeared across the room and infested by ants. He used to think his obsidian tower only had a pest problem due to it being a part of Hell, but this cabin taught him otherwise. Or perhaps it was him who brought the pests to this place, because he was carrying Hell with him wherever he went… No. He didn't want to think about that. The Demon-Lord opened the closet and picked up the only decent item inside, which was a suit. He knew humans only wore these on special occasions, but other than pajamas and short summer clothes that didn't fit the current windy weather, there was nothing else there to pick from. He's only just finished getting dressed (it wasn't easy to squeeze into that suit, and buttoning the jacket over his belly was impossible- but it was alright, considering) when there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" called out Lucifer, annoyed.

"Erm… Professor? It's Harvey and Clyde, you may remember us… we used to be your students… erm… two years ago?." A boyish voice replied behind the door.

"No. I don't remember." Said Lucifer, because he didn't want any visitors, and because he most certainly wasn't ready to meet with some ex-students that would probably test his personality and notice the flaws. He wasn't ready to play Gerard Morgan quite yet.

"Yeah, okay, but we were sent by the office, and I'm afraid it's an urgent business. Is this a bad time?"

"Bad time for _what_?" barked Lucifer.

"For… for… erm, cleaning the cabin."

_Cleaning the cabin_?? **Cleaning the cabin.** These words were like music to his ears. Lucifer couldn't believe his good fortune as he shuffled to open the door, forgetting all of his hesitations. A gift sent from Heaven. Someone to clean the cabin? Without him having to do anything? Who was he to refuse such an offering. Behind the door he found two young boys of twenty something, carrying a bunch of foreign machines and cleaning equipment.

"Erm… we're sorry for the inconvenience." Said the first, who was a blonde and specked with acne –"but the office has been trying to reach you all week. They sent loads of text messages and emails to your phone when you didn't answer their calls, and since you weren't home every time they came to check-"

"It's quite alright." Said Lucifer, guessing that Professor Morgan was avoiding them on purpose. The dirty old mole probably didn't want them to invade his privacy; but since this was _Morgan's_ privacy at stake, not his, Lucifer honestly didn't mind compromising it. –"Come in."

"Oh, brilliant!" said the second boy, who had auburn hair –"We thought you'd kick us out, Sire."

"Not at all." Said Lucifer kindly and opened the door widely for the two, to step in with all of their stuff. He guessed that the cabin was the property of the university, according to what Death had told him, and that they wanted the place to function as a residence, rather than a sewage.

"Woah!" said the blonde guy after closing the door behind him –"You're looking mighty sharp, Professor, I've only just noticed!" '

"Oh, my, you look smart!" commented the second lad –"And like ten years younger! I thought the beard was your lucky charm! But you look so much better without it! So… What's the occasion?"

"The reinvention of my self-image." Said Lucifer without thinking, but then thought such a declaration might have a destructive potential. It was true that everyone thought Morgan to be insane, and yet he best not draw too much attention to himself.

"Sounds cool." Said the blonde –"Whatcha reckon, Clyde?"

"I think this is a good time as any for changes." Said the boy named Clyde while putting on rubber gloves –"Perhaps you'll even go back to teaching, Professor? We truly missed you in the classroom."

"Who knows." Answered Lucifer.

"So where shall we begin?" asked Harvey, who was the blonde guy.

"You can start wherever you want, and you can throw everything out except for books and papers."

"What about your clothes?" offered Clyde while stooping to collect empty bottles into a big black bag –"We can have them washed for you, if you like."

"That is awfully kind of you, but no. _Burn_ them." Said Lucifer and took a seat next to the Professor's desk, beginning to leaf through the many documents piled there, and eyeing the computer screen distrustfully. He knew the machine had information stored on it, but despite the fact it was on, he had no idea how to use it. Admitting that to the two youngsters would come across as odd, so he decided to let that go for the time being.

"Burn them?" giggled Harvey –"You can't be serious, Sire; what shall you wear?"

"Don't you worry about that. Get on with the cleaning."

The two boys worked hard, and were surprisingly efficient. They managed to take on the living room in less than an hour, and finished with the bathroom, the kitchen, the upper floor and the bedroom before noon. They went back and forth carrying them big plastic bags which probably contained nothing but rubbish. Lucifer didn't mind them throwing away so much of Morgan's possessions for it was easy to give them up when they weren't his. From time to time the boys would stop and ask him about a rusty fork or a stained sheet and Lucifer would just wave at them dismissively –"Toss it. All of it. I don't want it."

Meanwhile he was deeply intrigued by the professor's writings and found himself fascinated by his crazy ideas. He managed to read about ten notebooks of gobbledygook before finding an honestly good essay regarding Stonehenge and other ancient archeological sites around the UK. Professor Morgan was able to recognize that these structures could not have been created by humans, and he also noticed the connection between them. He'd made some pretty decent observations; and his only mistake was believing that they were erected by Aliens. _Not aliens._ Thought Lucifer quietly. _Angels._

At around two o'clock the cabin was squeaky clean, and Lucifer was able to breathe properly again. He thanked the two boys and stopped them at the door just before they left.

"Harvey, Clyde, hold on." He said and reached for the wallet that was on the Professor's desk. Lucifer knew that humans used money for trading, but he didn't know how exactly, which was why he required the boys' assistance.

"Professor?"

Lucifer opened the wallet and took out a few notes. Having no clue as to their worth, he gambled by handing Harvey eight of those that had the number '200' printed on them. "Here. Get me some new clothes please." He said stiffly, assuming that the boys were some sort of servants.

"Erm… Professor, I honestly don't think we'd know what to get you…"

"I just said what do get me, didn't I? clothes." Huffed Lucifer.

"Yeah, but-"

"It's alright." Said Clyde reassuringly, giving his friend a face that projected 'the man's a lunatic, just go with it'. And he took the money.

"But-"

"I'll just ask my mum. She knows this stuff."

"Excellent." Said Lucifer –"Come back when you have it. Good day."

"Good day, Professor Morgan" said Clyde and the two boys left, closing the door behind them and whispering loudly about what a madman he was as they collected the bags they took out of the cabin and loaded them unto a car with a spacious rear part. As they drove off, Lucifer stretched in the rolling chair and enjoyed the fresh smell of the furniture and new sheets and the general neatness. He was finally alone and free and faraway from Hell and from all of his troubles. He watched the machine that was called 'Television' for several hours and liked absolutely everything it was projecting. People singing and goofing around and making fools out of themselves – that was pure entertainment. It was mid-evening when he's had enough of it, and the liberation he sensed was still bubbling within him. It was so elevating that he wanted to dance and hop around the cabin, but decided against it; firstly, because the professor was wobbly and getting him up from the floor once he fell was quite an ordeal. Secondly, he would really-

The door to the cabin opened abruptly and a prominent and round female bottom peeked inside. It was clothed in a blue working overall and pushing the door by swaying from side to side until it opened all the way. Lucifer stared at it mutely with his breath held in his chest as the girl attached to it walked backwards into the house while wheeling in an iron cart packed with pots containing plants, suitcases and other knick-knacks.

"Shit." She said, holding the door with her foot as one of the cartwheels got stuck on the threshold. She shook the cart in an attempt to get it past the obstacle. 

"Are you here for the cleaning, lady?" asked Lucifer, but his voice startled her, and she bumped into the cart as she turned, causing a few of the plants to drop to the floor and sully it with dirt. Lucifer frowned deeply.

"Well, if you ARE here for the cleaning, making a mess is hardly the way to go about it." He commented while she straightened up and glared at him –"Plus, the place had already been cleaned earlier today, so you are free to go."

"No, I am NOT here for the cleaning." She clarified and her voice was pleasing, yet angry. What was there to be so angry about? If anything, _he_ should be angry with _her_ for barging in and spilling filth all over the deck.

"Whatever are you here for, then?" inquired Lucifer, and frankly, his patience was running out already.

"Whatdya mean? I _belong_ here." She waved some sort of a document at him that he had no chance of reading due to his blindness and the distance –"I've just moved in, today." She said defensively –"after staying in a hotel for four days and _paying_ for it with money I don't have because they said the place was not yet ready." She said tensely –"They told me at the office that I will have this place to myself."

" _This_ place?" said Lucifer skeptically and glared back –"It cannot be right, lady. I live here. I've' been living here for years." He tried to sound confident, but couldn't, really. After all, he was there for only a few hours at best and knew nothing whatsoever about his rights to it.

"You live here?"

"Well, yes."

"It must be some sort of mistake they made at the office. I mean. If I knew I would be staying with a _man_ ," she spat the word as though it were a curse –"I could have stayed at my boyfriend's."

"You can still stay at your boyfriend's." offered Lucifer, measuring her shamelessly because it's been a while since he'd seen a healthy young woman who was not screaming manically or writhing in boiling tar. And this woman was attractive. She had bright red hair loosely held in a coil above her nape and fierce apple-green eyes behind pointy framed glasses. Her figure was harder to define due to the thick overall that covered her like a big sack. He would have told her to undress, but-

"I'll act as if you've never said that." She muttered grimly and took a phone out of her pocket, and as she dialed and waited she took off her dirty gloves with her teeth and put them on the shiny kitchen counter, to Lucifer's horror. Then she went outside to talk on the phone in private and the Demon-Lord followed her with his eyes through the window. Her body language suggested that she was clearly agitated, and after some five minutes she returned and slammed the door behind her, putting her hands on her hips.

"I apologize." She said lowly.

"Oh?"

"There was a misunderstanding. At the office."

"Ah. The office. Of course."

"We have to share this place." She huffed with some difficulty, as though it pained her to utter the words –"I just… I needed a place that'd be close to the greenhouse, which is where I do most of my work. They said… gosh, nevermind what they said, they're all a bunch of robotic idiots. Sorry I yelled at you."

"You didn't yell." Said Lucifer.

"I didn't? well, in my head I did loads of it. So."

"So…" Lucifer got out of the rolling chair and stepped around the desk so they were facing each other –"You're going to live here? With me?"

"See? _You_ don't like the idea _either_." She said, as though accusing him of something –"Because it doesn't make sense, does it? I've made all the arrangements before leaving the US… they assured me it was all taken care of." She crouched to collect the plants that had rolled to the floor before, kissing each and every one of them in turn before placing them back in the cart –"But it isn't your fault, so, I shouldn't have gone full-on crazy bitch on you and all. We'll just have to learn how to get along. Is… is that _plastic_?" she squinted her eyes and pointed at the corner of the room. Lucifer turned to see that the hard-working cleaners had missed a spot: there was a cup there with the label _'HOT Instant Tomato Soup_ ' on it. He moved to pick it up, but when he stooped his back almost broke in two. "Arggh! Blast it!" he grunted.

"I'll get it." Said the girl and hurried to pick up the cup, a sympathetic expression on her face –"I have this one rule, okay? Just one. Please don't use plastic in my presence. It's _killing_ me inside."

"What?" blinked The Demon-Lord, completely flabbergasted.

"Well, it's killing our planet. I'm sure you know about garbage island, and about the sea-turtles, and about how recycling is all just a huge fucking lie, because they pollute the air when they make the old plastic into new plastic, and so we get just more plastic, that we shouldn't have used in the first place, and they waste _tons_ of water in the process, and meanwhile-"

"Alright." Said Lucifer who didn't want to hear any more of this plastic-rant nonsense –"I won't use plastic in front of you. I promise."

"Oh." Said the girl with the expression of someone who just barged in through and open door –"Thanks."

"My pleasure." He said indifferently and measured her again, this time getting a glimpse of her cleavage behind the half-open zipper of the overall. She went down on her knees once more, to scoop up what dirt was left there with her naked palms and put it back in the pots, and Lucifer was looming over her with his hands in his pockets and admiring the view.

"So… how shall we do this?" she said once she was done, wiping her palms on her overall and leaving dark marks there –"I guess we're sharing the kitchen." She got to her feet, looking bitter.

" _And_ the bathroom." Said Lucifer, an unexplained pleasure conquering him for no reason.

"The… the bathroom." Repeated the girl and put her hands on her hips again, nodding solemnly. –"The bathroom. The bathroom. Oh, Lord."

"Yes."

"And what about the bed? Do we share that as well?" she offered ironically, and Lucifer wanted to say 'gladly', but instead said –"If you insist." Which wasn't much better of a remark.

Her gaze was stern behind her glasses –"I'd highly appreciate it if you refrained from such jokes in the future. It isn't funny to me, and this situation is making me edgy, so please. I'm sure you're a nice man and all but… just… don’t."

"Fine." Said Lucifer –"There's an attic upstairs, you can sleep there."

"As if I got another option-" muttered the girl and saying no more, she collected some of her stuff and ascended the staircase. She came back after a short while with a black sheet in her hands –"Sorry to do this." She said –"But I've noticed there was only one working space in this impossibly small cabin… you won't mind if I divide it in half?"

Lucifer glowered at her, saying nothing.

"It’s for the best." She said as she attached the sheet to the ceiling using tacks –"so we could both have privacy." She finished making the partition and moved from one side to the other, humming in contentment –"I need it, for my work and I'm sure that you do too." And now the main room was divided in two. His desk and library and bedroom on one side, and whatever she was planning to form on the other.

"Do you have a name?" inquired Lucifer, still at his desk and feeling useless.

"Oh, didn't I say? I didn't say, did I?" she laughed shortly –"Not very good with humans, I'm afraid. I'm Pam. Pamela Isley. And you?"

"I'm Lu-" he began, then trailed off, frightened all of a sudden.

"Lou? Just Lou? Okay." She shrugged –"Well, Lou, I'm gonna stay at my boyfriend's tonight. Gonna give you some time to get used to the idea of having me here." She added, bitterly –"Just gonna take a quick shower before I leave, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind." Said Lucifer rigidly.

And with that Pamela disappeared into the bathroom –"The door won't close." She shouted from there –"Did you know?"

"No." replied Lucifer, and fancied the idea of having the option to take a peek while she was showering. Only he didn't dare. Not at the moment.

When she was done Pamela stepped outside of the bathroom wearing only a pink towel to her body, and this was when Lucifer noticed that he was standing idle near the Professor's desk for quite a while.

"I'm super late." She blurted, running up the stairs and leaving wet footprints behind her. Lucifer might have been mad about it, but all he could think of was how her red hair reached all the way to her buttocks.

She came back down two minutes later wearing a tight green dress that showed her breats and caressed her hips beautifully, ending at her ankles –"How do I look?" she asked, and then –"No, don't answer that. I don't have time to change." And she grabbed her coat and bag from the cart that was still parking near the door –"I'll take care of that tomorrow-" she said apologetically –"Or you could just roll it into my part of the working space if it bothers you."

"Your part?" said Lucifer, ironically, studying her boobs that were now visible within the embrace of the fabric.

"Yeah, well. You know what I mean. Do I need a key? Do you lock the door at night?"

"I-"

"I'll figure it out. Super late. Bye!" and with that Pamela flew out the door, slamming it behind her. Lucifer waited for two whole minutes before picking a dark raincoat from the hook near the door and covering himself with it. And then he stepped outside and followed Miss Isley into the dark of night.

*


	24. If Looks could Kill, They probably will.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer finds out secrets about poison Ivy and about the universe.

_"My body is a cage that keeps me  
From dancing with the one I love  
But my mind holds the key_

_I'm standing on a stage  
Of fear and self-doubt  
It's a hollow play  
But they'll clap anyway_

_You're standing next to me  
My mind holds the key_

_I'm living in an age  
That calls darkness light  
Though my language is dead  
Still the shapes fill my head_

_I'm living in an age  
Whose name I don't know  
Though the fear keeps me moving  
Still my heart beats so slow…" **['My Body is a Cage', Arcade Fire]** _

He did not want to use any of his powers for fear they might disclose his whereabouts, in case any of his previous acquaintances was looking for him. Therefore, Lucifer used only the shadows of the night to conceal himself from sight, and he crept against walls and beneath trees as he followed Pamela through the grounds of the University. Fortunately for him, it was still windy, and the blowing sound covered whatever noise he was making. Unfortunately for him, Pamela was swift and apparently in a hurry, and the broken body of Professor Gerard almost failed to catch up with her in a dark and unknown territory. In addition, The Morningstar had no idea _why_ he was following her. It was too soon to be bored with his time on Earth and it was too risky to be running about the area with no possible excuse and under the cover of darkness. And yet, something about this woman was _mystifying_ and inscrutable and he could not resist the urge to find out more about her. Or perhaps it was just his knack for getting himself into trouble. Who knows.

After a voyage of some 15 minutes, she ignorantly led him into an isle paved with red bricks that had cabins similar to his aligned on both sides. She wiped her feet urgently on a doormat at the entrance of one of the cabins to the right and knocked on the door three times, impatiently –"LeGrande!" she called out, and then stood on tiptoes to peek through the window –"You there?"

"Sure." Replied a male voice from inside and then the door opened and a man was standing in a rectangle of light, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and having a kitchen towel thrown across his shoulder –"I thought you were gonna stay at your new place tonight?"

"I changed my mind." Blurted Pamela –"I hope it's okay."

"Why, don't be silly, Tulip. Yours is the only company I crave. Come in."

"Thanks." As Pamela went inside and took off her coat, Lucifer slid to the side of the cabin in search of a new lookout. He was able to find that the living-room window only had its curtains half-closed, so he could look inside undisturbed. Pamela settled on the sofa and pushed aside a pile of newspapers that was there –"They're just so _stupid_ in this country." She complained and picked up the device that could control the T.V. from a distance, and began clicking it nervously. The pictures on the screen were changing in accordance.

"Yeah, I guess so; but every country has its own stupidities-" answered her boyfriend from what was probably the kitchen, where Lucifer could not see him. –"In my country, they are stupid enough to consume poisonous snails."

"Poisonous?" wondered Pamela, as Lucifer wondered what country the man was talking about –"I didn't know they were poisonous."

"Oh, oui, they are." Confirmed the boyfriend –"They feed them a special blend for seven days to detoxicate them. Only then they are good for eating."

"You're right. It does sound stupid." Agreed Pamela –"I just… -"

"What? What is it? I just finished having dinner and was about to feed the carnivorous plants with the remains; but if you're hungry I could heat it up for you and _feed you_ instead." The man offered in a slimy voice that irritated Lucifer. While he himself could have said something of the sort to one of his lovers, hearing someone else saying it was utterly repulsive.

"Was it meat?" inquired Pamela.

"Pasta and meatballs from a can, yes. You know I don't cook when I eat by myself, Tulip."

"And you know very well that I don't eat meat." Commented Pamela, agitation in her voice, as though this was a detail that she had to repeat to the man over and over again. –"It smells funky before it enters the body, and it's a freaking stench-bomb by the time it's out. And you can't _possibly_ be okay with the fact that the animals-"

"Do I have to remind you that the animals eat plants? Sometimes when the plants are just babies." Teased the man.

"Bullshit." Pamela was quick to respond and she tossed the remote control unto the table with disinterest. There were nice looking people on the television screen, cooking something. Lucifer has only been on Earth for less than 24 hours, but he's already managed to detect that the people on television were always good-looking and that they were always either dancing or singing or cooking. "The cows that you eat are stuffed with processed chemicals and antibiotics from birth to slaughter, and in the meantime they manage to pollute our air with their farts."

"My love, your descriptions are always so delicate and refined." Joked the man.

"So now I'm too crude?" said Pamela grimly.

"Too crude for other men maybe, not for me." Declared the man.

"Thanks. I guess."

"I could make you some rice?" offered the boyfriend. "You're okay with rice, right? Since the plant survives after being harvested? Do I remember that right?"

"Yes, yes you do. But thank you, I don't feel like eating. I'm too upset."

"Too lonely at the new place?" finally, the man stepped into the living-room carrying two goblets and the bottle of wine- now uncorked. Lucifer was surprised to see that he was not much younger than Professor Morgan, or more handsome, although he was definitely in better shape. LeGrande had silver hair and brown eyes with laughing lines around them, and he was dressed in a checkered red and black shirt and jeans. He had a foxlike face, and the ring on his finger suggested he was married. Probably not to Pamela.

He handed her one of the goblets and poured in the red wine while she began babbling, telling him everything about the problems at the office and the 'nasty sociopath' whom she had to share a cabin with and who frowned at her for dividing the working space in half, which was totally necessary, if not crucial.

"He's a sociopath?"

"Well, yeah."

"Isn't that a good thing? Would you rather he wanted to be friends and questioned you every time you're coming and going?"

"No. Of course not. You know what? Nevermind it. Let's not talk about it, it gets me down." She sipped the wine carefully before leaning back into the sofa and sighing deeply.

"No, no. I wanna hear all about it. So who is that fella?" the man settled beside her and rested one palm on her thigh, caressing there with his thumb, very close to her garden which all in all made sense because they were a couple, and yet made Lucifer uncomfortable. He knew evil when he saw it, that was one of his talents- and this guy had not one decent cell in his body, nor a decent thought in his mind.

"He's an aging professor." She began, and corrected herself when he boyfriend frowned –"No, no, don't get me wrong. You're a _grown up_. He's just old. And insane. When I called the office they practically asked me to pity the man. Said he'd lost his wife and job a few years back, had a couple of strokes, and now he's living there because he has no living relatives and no money and nowhere else to go."

"So do you?"

"What?"

"Pity him?"

"Oh I…" Pamela rolled her eyes "I mean it _is_ sad…"

"Awww, my Tulip has feelings!" called LeGrande and giggled –"What a breakthrough! I'd always thought it'd be a kitten to melt your heart of stone." And he grabbed Pamela's face and kissed her on her mouth. Lucifer felt the chills running down his spine. Plus he did not enjoy one bit hearing how she felt about Professor Morgan. He knew very well that he was _not_ the professor, he was Lucifer; but somehow his pride was battered by her description of the old man, and he was not content. 

"So what's his field of expertise?"

"Archeology, they said." Muttered Pamela.

"So an old man obsessed with old things."

"Yes. Now can we please stop talking about him? I came here to get a break."

"Really? And I thought you came here to see me."

"I… I did."

"Settle down, Tulip. I'm only teasing you. If living with another man gets you running into my arms, then fuck it, I'm loving it."

LeGrande leaned sideways on his elbow and drank too, then he placed the glass on the table and petted Pamela's hair idly. Lucifer felt a tremor of inexplicable envy rattling his nerves.

"I'm gonna leave the door open from now on." Said the man and kissed her shortly again –"Be your shelter from the storm…" he began unbuttoning his shirt, and beneath his undershirt Lucifer saw that the guy had firm abs, solid as rocks. –"You could come here anytime you want, crawl into my bed and wake me up with your sweet sweet kisses. Or with a blowjob. That is also acceptable."

"I might do that." Replied Pamela and she was already half-lying beneath her boyfriend's body, when he suddenly moved away from her and tapped her on her hip.

"Finish your wine and I'll get the stuff ready meanwhile." He said.

"What…?" she blinked, looking confused –"Gosh, can we _please_ not tonight? Seriously," she put her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes –"I don't feel like it. I mean it, Marc."

LeGrande chuckled lowly and caressed her face –"You haven't gotten any in almost a week, Tulip. If we stop now, there won't be any use to what we've done so far. We need the _accumulative_ effect and we've made such progress. Do you really wanna throw all that away?"

"Erm… I dunno. You jumped at me with that thing as soon as I got off the plane."

"Yes, and was that so bad?"

"Well, no…"

Lucifer began wondering if 'that thing' and 'haven't gotten any' were euphemisms for sex, because what else could they mean? But then LeGrande left the room for a second, and returned holding a tiny glass bottle containing a green liquid solution. He grinned as he showed the bottle to Pamela, who did not look happy at all. –"What do you say, Tulip? Half a dose?"

"No." said Pamela again, and while Lucifer thought her refusal was clear enough to any person, LeGrande treated it more like a 'maybe', and he retook his spot next to his girlfriend and began persuading her with caresses and sweet-talking. Every now and then he would kiss her and touch her most intimate places, but he did not undress her or seemed like he was planning to. After a session of trying to convince her to take whatever was in the bottle, LeGrande suddenly began saying things like "It's okay, it's alright. I'm sorry I pushed you, Darling."; and while the two were fondeling each other on the sofa, Lucifer noticed that the man slipped the bottle into his back pocket, and that it was now empty.

Where did the liquid go?

Loaded with unease, Lucifer listened to the moans and groans that came only from Pamela, and then her boyfriend said "Let's have a warm shower together and go to bed." And with that the couple got up and disappeared in the hallway. The sound of running water soon emerged from the cabin, and not much later some water came out of a tube and spilled unto Lucifer's shoes, for he was standing just beneath the draining hatch. Unluckily. At that point he decided that he'd seen and heard enough for one night, and he shuffled his way back to his own cabin. He tossed and turned in bed for many hours, and only managed to fall asleep after he'd heard the front door slamming and Pamela's footsteps going up the staircase above him, to the attic.

*

When the Earth's moon was at level with the Silver-City docks, The Morningstar flew as a particle do the rendezvous spot and waited for the other sinful angels to arrive. He was too curious to overlook such an event: the angels were having sex with human females, and they were doing it regularly; and if that wasn't enough, they used him, Lucifer, as inspiration.

Azza was the first to arrive, for he was their unofficial leader. His name meant 'The Strength of God' and therefore he was built magnificently, towering over the other angels and with wings three times their size. They said he could move galaxies with just the blink of his eye. However, this time he came as a grain of cosmic dust, and he hovered in space without noticing Lucifer, for Lucifer was microscopical and wasn't visible to the naked eye.

Second came Azazel. His name meant 'The Courage of the Lord', and therefore he was the type of angel to try anything new without hesitation. He was inventive and innovative and had the talent to engage the listener in his miraculous stories. He came as a grain of salt, too heavy to hover. He was rolling on the surface of the docks.

Third and last came Lahash. His name meant 'Whisper' and he was a weird type of angel, the angel of secrets who did everything covertly. He always seemed frightened, and because he was so easily spooked his hair turned completely white soon after he was made. This angel of mystery mostly kept to himself, and Lucifer was surprised to see that he'd get involved in such despicable deeds. But then again, if Lahash was the angel of secrets, it was only natural for him to be pulled into the biggest secret happening. This angel came in the form of a single vapour.

And as for you, dear readers, who probably associate the names of these angels with evil and with Hell, kindly note that these were the old times, the prehistorical times, in which said angels were all beautiful Godly agents, and some would argue they were even pleasant and had nothing but good intentions. They were nothing like the monsters they would become later.

"Is this everyone?" asked Azza.

"I guess so." Answered Azazel and hopped a couple of times in place.

"You better change into something lighter."

Azazel then turned himself into a floating hair, and came to hover next to his friend. Lahash did say something as well, but nobody heard him.

"Come away, then." Ordered Azza and the three angels descended to Earth. Torn in half, Lucifer followed them but did not dare to land on the planet. He instead glided above them and saw them taking their usual shapes under the moonlight. The three of them seemed thrilled. Even Lahash couldn't stop blinking, which meant that he was nervous.

"Where are all the girls?" wondered Azazel.

"Asleep in their beds." Replied Azza –"They do not guess what's coming for them." He grinned, a toothy grin. His copper hair shone in the moonbeams.

The planet was nothing like Lucifer remembered from his last visit. It was dotted with spots of orange light- _fires_. He assumed. And here and there were clusters of fires. Small villages and towns, probably swarming with human beings. Leather tents and small mud houses were the places where the humans slept. They no longer needed him to instruct and to guide and comfort them. And Eve… no. He didn't want to think about her.

Silently, the three angels made their way into the nearest village. They came to a halt when they spotted a big bonfire surrounded by young men and women. The people were chanting and dancing around the fire manically, and neither wore anything save for a piece of loose leather around their waist, that flew upwards as they were thumping and jumping and revealed their genitals. A beast carcass was cooking in the flames, and the smokey scent of it rose into the night air. Mesmerized, Lucifer watched the bizarre human ritual, and he was so fascinated by it that he didn't see Azazel approaching and taking a seat near the fire, spreading his massive wings luxuriously.

A shock wave passed through all the humans and they ceased from dancing. The people further down the circle, who were beating the drums, stopped playing and watched the angel with a mixture of terror and awe.

"Greetings." Said Azazel in a pleasant voice. And then, to Lucifer's amazement, three human males with feathers on their heads stepped forward and threw themselves at the angel's feet, bowing and chanting "Oh, man from the skies! Oh, skywalker, we are your slaves! We are your servants!"

Then the entire tribe followed them, and rows upon rows of humans bowed down to the angel as well, raising their arms and throwing their bodies flat on the ground repeating: "Oh, man from the skies! Spare us, teach us!"

Lucifer did not know the language they were speaking, but for some reason he knew what they were saying although it sounded like a series of grunts and howls at first. Azazel also knew what they were talking about, and not only that, he could also reply and used their own language when he said: "Me and my friends from the skies will be happy to teach you. All you need to do is introduce us to your best-looking virgin females." And with that Lucifer saw how Azazel's erection became stiff between his legs, a long and pointy stick stood there. Waiting.

The tribe of humans then got up and gathered to consult with one another, and before long a pretty young girl was pushed towards Azazel, brought to him unwillingly, and forced to fall to her knees in front of him.

"It is our gift to you, man from the skies."

"I am grateful for this gift." Replied Azazel, eyeing the girl with a naughty gaze; and although she seemed scared at first, after a short exchange of glances, she got up independently and walked over to Azazel, opening her legs and sitting in his lap.

The crowd cheered and resumed the frantic dancing, calling out: "Man from the skies! Man from the skies!" as the girl was rolling her hips to the beat of the drums, over and over against his thighs.

After that, Azza, the second angel, didn't have to do much. All he did was walk into the circle of light, and a second young girl with hair as dark as coal jumped at him, making him fall to the ground and climbing on top of him, shoving his dick into her slit as he moaned happily. The crowd chanted: "Ride, Ride, Ride!", and only Lahash stood on the side and shivered as his pale member slid out of its scabbard, muttering nonsense that mattered to no one.

*


	25. Every Rose has its Thorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer finds out a little more about Poison Ivy, and it isn't a bed of roses.

_"But me I'm a single cell on a serpent's tongue  
There's a muddy field where a garden was…_

_The end of paralysis, I was a statuette  
Now I'm drunk as hell on a piano bench  
And when I press the keys it all gets reversed  
The sound of loneliness makes me happier "_ **_['Poison Oak', Bright Eyes]_**

Lucifer woke up late in the next morning to a feeling of unease in his body. His stomach was gurgling, and a fresh alluring sent that rose from the kitchen helped him realise that he was hungry. _Super hungry_. He picked up his glasses from the nightstand and placed them on his face (where they rested awkwardly, like before) and then walked over to the kitchen and found a bowl of cooked rice and some toasts on the counter. After calling Pamela's name a couple of times, not getting an answer and figuring she had already gone out, he ate all the food. No, he _devoured_ it like a starving kitten, never even tasting it or thinking twice about where it came from, for Lucifer was used to being served.

With his belly full The Morningstar decided to do a little bit of exploring. The first thing he had the crave of checking out was Pamela's room in the attic. He went up the creaky wooden steps and pressed on the knob to open the door, but it did not relent. _The little bitch had locked it! How rude of her_. Dissatisfied, he went back downstairs and put on his shoes- which wasn't an easy thing to do. He was panting and huffing throughout the process of folding in half to reach his feet. Once he finally got the shoes on, he left the cabin and began strolling around the grounds. It was a surprisingly sunny day outside and the main buildings of the campus were clearly visible in the distance. It took him a long time to get there, for the sate of Professor Morgan's body; but once he did seeing people walking by and looking busy and lively rather than moaning in agony with nails stuck in their eyeballs made him hopeful and almost happy. A few passers by also stopped to greet him with a 'Good day, Professor!', and they all seemed quite bewildered to meet him. Since he'd stopped teaching, Morgan probably didn't leave the house too often, let alone spoke to anyone. He spent a few hours on a bench near a fountain, but when a bug crawled up his trousers and stung his ankle, he ducked to try and crush it and the seams of the fabric tore at his crotch and he had to hurry back to the cabin before things got any worse.

He next decided to try and figure out how to work the computer, so he sat at his desk in front of the screen and clicked the many buttons of the keyboard, not really knowing what he was doing. The screen came to life, where there were many icons arranged against a blue background, and a symbol shaped like an arrow could be dragged over them to point at the desired spot. He was able to connect that arrow with the mouse soon enough, remembering vaguely the computers in the Hell-Hotel, designated to help ex hi-tech and office workers to torture themselves. Before he could choose any of the icons, though, a square picture of a relatively naked lady popped at the right bottom corner of the screen. ' _Feeling lonely?'_ asked a text over the picture of the lady. No, it wasn't a picture, but a moving video, like the ones on the television, and the girl wasn't a lady, but a _whore_. She was sticking out her tongue and playing with her nipples over her bra. The text changed into _'I am single. Would you like to meet me?'._

_No_. thought Lucifer.

**YES**. Said Morgan's piglet of a dick that began to tickle in the confines of the trousers.

Mortified to even think about touching that loathsome organ, Lucifer dragged the arrow over the X mark next to the picture and clicked it. The horny whore disappeared, but before long another one popped up. This one had no shame whatsoever- with her legs spread widely and something blue and rubbery stuffed in her pussy and seemingly causing her joy. _'Hot young Russian searching for a partner_ ' was the new title. _'Click to see her getting off'_.

"I'd click to see her get off the screen." Muttered Lucifer rigidly and clicked on the X mark for the second time. He hovered with the arrow over an icon of a book that said _'Essay#23'_ and clicked on it. The screen changed into a text titled _'Echoes of Forgotten Visits'_ with a secondary title saying _'How visitors from the skies altered Human Culture over hundreds of generations'_. Hmm. Another piece of Morgan's research, for sure. Lucifer was deeply engaged in reading when someone knocked on the door.

"Who is it?"

"Professor, it's Clyde and Harvey? Your ex-students. We… we brought you the clothes you've asked for. May we come inside?"

"Aye, go ahead." Mumbled Lucifer and left the desk. He found that getting up was also quite an irksome task after being in a chair for some hours. He stood up with a slight dizziness when the door opened and the two young boys stepped inside, carrying bags.

"Did you just say 'aye' to us?" chuckled Harvey –"You're hilarious, Professor."

"Am I." replied Lucifer grimly and closed the door behind them –"So what have you got for me?"

"Loads of stuff!" said Clyde, puffing with pride –"Calling my mum was a great idea. She's single, by the way."

Lucifer thought of the 'single' girl on his scree, rolled his eyes behind Morgan's glasses and took the bags that were handed to him, as the two boys took a seat- one of them in a chair and the other on a stool that was next to the door. His manly figure looked funny crunched and hunched on that little piece of furniture.

"You've got shirts there, and trousers, and belts, underwear, sweaters- oh, and also a jacket. All of the receipts are there too, in case you'd like to replace or return an item." Lucifer did not know what receipts were but thanked the boys anyways. He began pulling one item after the other from the first bag and examining them. They were not the fancy, dandy garments he used to wear back in Hell, but he did find them nevertheless satisfying. In addition, wearing his favorite fashion pieces from the 18th century was probably not the best idea in these surroundings, and finally, Professor Morgan did not have the body type to pull them off.

"Would you like to try any of these on?" offered Harvey.

"That can wait for later." Said Lucifer, honestly waiting for them to leave the cabin, but the two boys did not seem to be keen on leaving anytime soon. 

"Soooo…" began Harvey –"We heard the news."

"What news?"

"Personally, I don't reckon we should ask you about it, but Clyde here is simply _bursting_ with curiosity."

"You really didn't have to say that." Muttered Clyde, his face colouring red and crimson.

"And what, pray tell, is making you so intrigued?" asked Lucifer and put the bags away on the rolling chair.

"Nah, don't even think about it, Professor. Harvey just has a big mouth."

"I see. However, now I'm the one curious about it. So, what is the matter?"

"Well," said Clyde, shifting uncomfortably in the chair –"We just heard that the American PhD student is living with you." He blushed even more deeply –"Is it true?"

"Who?" Lucifer pretended that he did not know what they boy was blabbering about.

"Oh, we don't know her name." admitted Harvey –"But it's a small uni, and the girl is utterly _lush_. You know, ginger with _gigantic jugs_ -"

At that moment the door flung open and Pamela flew in like a restless squirrel in her working clothes and slammed it behind her, shocked to discover the guests inside, who were in turn in no less of a shock. Clyde's reddish face were instantly drained out of blood and Harvey was attacked by a peculiar cough.

Eyeing them with obvious antipathy, she was quick to disappear behind the black partition that divided the room in half, saying absolutely nothing. Not even the customary 'Hello'.

"You were saying?" teased Lucifer, relishing the boys' embarrassment.

"My mum. Still single." Blurted Clyde as Harvey mouthed 'WOW' silently.

"Right." Said Lucifer.

"And she said you could ring her up sometime. Would you like to see a picture? She's 54, but you wouldn't give her a day over 37. She works out 3 times a week, and she's a great cook-"

"Does it feel good?" wondered Lucifer.

"What? Cooking?" Clyde was baffled.

"No, trafficking your mother."

"What? No, Sire, I didn't-"

The partition was shoved sideways, and Pamela stepped into the study, her hands on her hips –"Listen, guys?" she began, and the two boys were hypnotized just to see her again. Clyde even got to his feet as if pulled by invisible strings –"I know the stories about your mothers must be _thrilling_ , but this place is my _working place_ and I need to concentrate. So just… I dunno. Take it somewhere else."

"Yeah." Gawked Harvey –"Absolutely. Sorry, Miss."; but Lucifer was not having it. Despite wishing the boys to sod off not a moment ago, he did not appreciate Pamela taking over the entire space and ordering everyone around.

"I'm sorry." Said Lucifer and straightened his unstraightenable glasses on his nose, allowing some of his devilish tone into his voice –"But these are my guests and we were having a conversation in an area which I believe _you_ defined as _my_ part of the working space."

Completely unaffected, Pamela replied –"Unfortunately, the conversation you were having in _your_ part of the working space is extremely audible in _my_ part of the working space. If you wanna have people over you could do so when I'm not around, which is most of the time. And if you really wanna have that super-important conversation right now then I dunno… take it down to the pub or something."

"Oh, yeah. No worries." Instead of being offended, Clyde's face lit up and he beamed at Pamela and then at Lucifer –"We could go to the pub together, that's actually a great idea. What say you, Professor? It'll be just like the first year."

Seeing the hope in the youngsters' eyes and knowing that there was no point arguing any further with Pamela (who had clearly bewitched them); he decided that perhaps hanging at the pub with them wasn't the worst.

"Very well." He said.

"Excellent." Said Pamela and disappeared behind the drape. The two boys promised to come pick him up in an hour and Lucifer went into the bathroom to take a shower and dressed himself in his new clothes when he was done. He picked a red shirt and a pair of fine black trousers, finishing the look with a belt and not unhappy to see himself in the mirror. While he was busy brushing Morgan's hair (his best feature, really, and not a bad thing in general), he heard a growl from the kitchen and a metal thump, followed by a dreadful, ear-piercing yell "MORGAN! Get your ass in here, NOW!"

Lucifer put down the brush and stepped out of the bathroom, frowning as he found Pamela near the sink, holding an empty bowl –"Did you _touch_ my _food_?" she accused him, her face the epitome of disbelief –"Did you fucking _eat_ my food, you asshole?!"

"I may have." Answered Lucifer, his mouth a thin line and his stomach churning, for her anger was getting to him. Or perhaps it was getting to Gerard Morgan.

"What kind of a person are you!?" she hollered, tossing the bowl back into the sink –"Have you no respect to other people's property? What, were you living on your own for too long? You see something and you just _assume_ it's yours, and you TAKE it? Christ! We're not roommates, alright? We're not friends. We just happen to be in the same house because of a very, very sad coincidence!"

The only time he was yelled at by a woman to such an extent was ages ago, and it was Lily, his wife, who yelled at him so it was understandable, and even then he always had the upper hand because he was the devil and because the power-balance between them was clear to both parties. _Not in this case_. He was honestly lost for words because he did not know what was acceptable and how to even approach the matter; wanting to put her in her place and knowing not what it was.

"I thought you'd left it for me." He tried.

"Why would I do that?!" she kept on yelling, furious –"Am I your personal cook?? Your girlfriend?! What the _fuck_ , Morgan?"

Strands of her red hair were slipping out of the band that held them behind her head as she banged on the counter time and time again, to stress how disastrous his act had been. She was even more beautiful in her turmoil, and she took off both her dirty gloves and shoved them into her pockets when he was certain she'd press them to his face and smear him with mud, because she was so mad.

"I'll give you money for it." Tried Lucifer again, knowing now – to his apprehension- that the little that was left of Morgan's original character included his docility, and that he had to put up with it.

"No, no, you've got this all wrong." Said Pamela and measured him with her bright eyes, as if checking for signs of his insanity –"Let me get one thing straight, okay? My stuff is _my_ stuff. You _don't touch_ my stuff, and if you don't know if it's mine, just _don't touch it_ , because you can tell that it isn't yours, right?" she faltered for a second, reconsidering her words –"Or have you got a dysfunctional memory too? Because if you do-"

"My memory's fine." Said Lucifer.

"Great." Said Pamela, opening the zipper to her overall –"Jesus, it's hot in here."

Lucifer gulped as she pulled the zipper all the way down to her waistline and wiggled out of the sleeves, finally standing in front of him in a tight white top that showed the outline of her plump, eye-popping breasts. Morgan's disgusting dick was once again raising its ugly head.

"I get it." Said Pamela in an entirely different tone as she opened the mini-fridge –"You're too lazy to get food for yourself- you practically have nothing to eat around here; and to be honest I was gonna go to the supermarket anyways, so I am willing, as a one-time gesture, to get you whatever you want in hope you won't feel like taking my stuff in the future. Except for meat, I don't even wanna touch it."

"Alright." Said Lucifer and was finally able to breathe, after the initial paralysis her shouting at him evoked in Morgan's body.

"Alright." She repeated and straightened up, closing the fridge and looking at him with disapproval–"Close your mouth, Morgan. I got boobs, I'm a woman. You'll just have to get used to them."

"Indeed." Said Lucifer, but still didn't budge.

"Money?" said she, encouragingly –"I'm sure you don't expect me to pay for your food."  
"No, of course not." Coming to his senses Lucifer stepped over to his desk and picked up the wallet again, taking out another 200 note and handing it to her hesitantly, assuming that food was cheaper than clothes.

"No credit cards? What, you don't believe in them or something?"

"Is there a problem?"

"Nope." Replied Pamela and took the note –"Not at all. Except for your phone-" she gestured towards the device that was resting near the computer screen –"It's out of battery, and not connected to its charger, and the charger is in the outlet. That's a solid waste of energy that isn't doing any good to global warming." She picked up the phone and hooked it to a cord that was sticking from a little box in the wall –"Disconnect it when it's full, will ya?"

"Alright." He said unthinking, hating Morgan's compliance.

"So we know you like rice, what else?"

"I am-"

The sound of car-wheels came from outside and both Lucifer and Pamela turned to look at the window.

"Your friends are here." She noted.

*

Alcohol had no positive effects on the mind or the body back in Hell, but here on Earth it was _magic_. Lucifer drank whatever the boys ordered for him and by his second drink he was laughing for no reason and telling them about the bug that had caused him to break his pants earlier.

Sometime after midnight the boys drove him back to the cabin, but had to drop him off at the top of the nearest hill, for it had been raining before and the road was too muddy for them to get any closer.

"Will you be okay getting there, Professor?" asked Clyde kindly –"Or do you want me to come with?"

"Ti's quite alright." He answered and almost fell on his face as he stepped out of the car.

"Whoops, careful." Said Harvey and grabbed him by his arm to stabilize him, and Lucifer laughed dismissively and began shuffling his way down the hill. When the car drove off it his eyes had to adjust to almost total darkness, and he slipped in the mud a few times and considered peeing on a large rock that stuck from the ground when his hunter's senses awakened all of a sudden. Sharpening and whetted by his inquisitiveness as they rose through the haze of intoxication.

There were voices coming from further down the path, near the cabin. Knowing it was best not to be seen he strayed into the bushes and hunched, almost crawling, until he was close enough to recognize the figures and hear their conversation.

LeGrande was with his back to him, holding Pamela by her hips and kissing her neck while muttering –"It's only a short trip, Tulip."

"I don't get it. How are you taking trips all of a sudden? It's totally fucked up, Marc." said she and sounded upset –"I came here just for you. You know that."

"Now now, you didn't come here for me. You came here to pursue your own career and for our mutual project."

"Whatever." Said she –"Just don't be surprised if you don't find me here when you're back, alright? I'm sick and tired of this shit, honestly."

LeGrande laughed –"Prickly, prickly." And continued kissing her neck, without making any other advances- which was odd. –"Why don't we go inside, Tulip?"

"Can't," she huffed –"Fucking 'Captain Weirdo' is probably in there, spying on us as we speak."

"I'm sure the old bear is dormant, Pam. Why do you care so much about him?"

"I don’t. Did you know the bastard helped himself to my dinner?"

"Hmm."

And then, whilst Pamela was still talking and besmirching Morgan and whilst still smearing the area under her ear with saliva, LeGrande reached into his pocket and pulled out something that glinted and shone in the moonlight. At first Lucifer thought it a knife, and feeling a jolt of heroism that had to have come from Morgan, he got to his feet and was about to dash forward and intercept the murder, but fell heavily flat on his face – only managing to see how it was not a knife, but a syringe, and how LeGrande naturally moved to kissing Pamela's mouth, injecting her neck with it, without her ever noticing. 

*


	26. Shine a Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer and Ivy are getting closer

_"Eyes wide shut and I still feel the needle in my back  
Cutting through my veins and spirit making me relax  
I can't tell if I am living or just holding on  
'Cause wicked games heeds wicked winners  
Kick me 'til I drop_

_You silent my song  
No fist is needed when you call_

_And you seek pain like it is pleasure  
Like a work of art  
When I'm your painting, I'm your treasure  
Purest of them all  
And call it love or call it murder  
Kill me quietly  
Close the door then take it further  
Where no man has been…" **['Silent My Song', Lykke Li]** _

She was frightened, at first, as anticipated. Being away from home and for the first time and accepted into one of the biggest universities on the planet at 19 would do that to anyone, and she was just the right amount of anxious- which was over the top. Pamela therefore chose the seat that was the farthest from the board in the 'Fundamentals of Organic Chemistry' course that was overpopulated with first year students, for it was mandatory.

She had her hood drawn almost all the way to her eyebrows and her eyes focused on the blank screen of her laptop, deliberately ignoring everyone else in the room. Physically shuddering as the room went quiet for the lecturer had arrived.

"Good Morning," he uttered in a light French accent –"My name is Marc LeGrande and I was imported here from Europe to share my wisdom with the future generation, because it seems there is a shortage in knowledgeable Professors in America."

Some of the students laughed nervously.

"But we are going to fix that, aren't we?" he placed his briefcase on the desk and opened it, taking out a neat folder and leafing through it –"and hopefully turn you lot into genius engineers of nature, or at least into adults who make very boring conversation partners, because nobody wants to hear about the biology of the cell."

Another burst of laughter, but this time it was louder.

"Oui, oui. It's only funny until your wife leaves you." Another burst of laughter –"So please, don't run your experiments in the bathroom using a cup to cultivate bacteria, which later on turns out to be where she keeps her mouthwash."

This time the students all raised their heads while snickering and fixed their eyes on the Professor, for he had earned their trust already. Pamela didn't dare to gaze straight ahead, but she did manage to follow the events closely. Who was this man? Why did he feel obligated to make everyone like him?

"But enough of that." He said, beaming back at them –"I could spend our entire course telling you what not to do, but we have a grander task on our hands. Please raise a limb when I call out your name."

And thus he began reading out the names on his list, and some of the students did raise their legs when they said 'Here!' or 'Present', and the atmosphere was laden with enthusiasm and excitement until: "Ivy."

Nobody responded to that name and people were looking at each other.

"Ivy? Pamela?" tried the Professor again –"Is there a Pamela Ivy in the room, or did she prefer skipping my very first class, which is of course unforgivable."

She finally peeked over the edge of her laptop, seeking to see if there was another Pamela in this course, or did he refer to her after all, but since nobody else answered and a second before he crossed out the name from his list, she raised her hand hesitantly.

"You?" he asked hopefully.

"I think it might be me." She offered, insecure.

"You _think_ it _might_ be you?" he said kindly, smiling at her; and now she gazed at him, coyly, and blushed because the entire room's attention was focused on a scene she was at the center of. –"You mean you aren't sure?" he added, coaxing her to speak –"Well, if you are not you, then _who_ are you, I wonder? A big question, isn't it? But then it belongs to the faculty of philosophy-"

"No, I mean I'm not sure you meant me." She corrected herself, feeling stupid –"My name is Pamela Isley. Not Ivy."

The Professor then looked into his notes again, his chestnut hair, which was silver at the temples shone in the morning sun that flowed from the window, and she saw that he was good-looking. "Ah, now I see. It was an honest mistake. I'd asked my secretary to copy down the names and misread her handwriting. Very well, Miss Isley." He marked a small V on his list and went on to calling out the rest of the names. However, when he was done his eyes were on her again –"Miss Isley, kindly remove that hood. I want to see faces when I teach, not blobs of fabric."

And that was it. Their first interaction, and for a while there was nothing else going on between them. But she had sensed his eyes landing on her during classes from time to time, and she could have sworn his gazes were caresses, and somewhere deep inside she knew he had pictured her naked.

But she was not _quite_ certain, until that notorious field trip to the pharmaceutical laboratory.

Due to intense studying in the previous night, Pamela was late to wake up the morning of the trip and only arrived at the parking lot at 09:57 when the students were asked to be there at 09:30. She boarded the coach clutching her bag to her chest and panting wildly, mildly alarmed to find that all of the seats were already taken save for one: the vacant seat next to Professor LeGrande that was in the front row of the bus. Despite her screaming instincts that told her it was preferable to pass this ride standing up than being hopelessly self-conscious during the next three hours, she couldn't bear the accusing stares of her classmates and so quietly settled next to him, saying nothing.

She shut her eyes tightly as the bus beeped while reversing to maneuver its way out of the parking lot, and the nice smell that was rising from his neckline threatened to break down her systems. She couldn't possibly imagine coming out safe on the other side of this ride. 

"I'm sure you wish you were dead right now." Said LeGrande, and at first she thought his voice was coming from inside her head, but the short chuckle that accompanied his words assured her that it didn't. he was really, truly speaking to her.

"You could leave that hood on your head, stick in your earphones and pretend this isn't happening." He said lowly –"I won't blame you for hating this situation."

"I'm okay." She found herself saying, with an effort, not daring to look at him but feeling the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as his arm brushed against hers, accidentally. She couldn't believe, wouldn't admit to herself how attracted she was to that man who was more than twice her age. But then again, she never found any interest in her peers who fancied drinking and competing for social status while discussing the plotlines of idiotic TV shows.

"You are more than okay." Muttered LeGrande, but did not elaborate.

The first hour passed in complete silence, apart for one time when he had to get up and talk to the students on the microphone, telling them what to expect from the tour. At that time he had to lean over her to get to the isle, 'Excuse me,' he said; and before she had a chance to regret not stepping aside to let him out of the seat without the two of them having to rub against each other- he was already looking down at her. It took but a fracture of a second, and yet the intensity in his eyes two inches from her face made her think about sex. To prevent this from reoccurring, she switched seats with him and was next to the window, realizing too late that she was now trapped between his body and the windowpane.

"Miss Isley." He said quietly –"You make me feel like a monster. I cannot bear the thought of causing you such distress. Would you like me to ask one of the other students to change seats with me?"

"It wouldn't matter." Blurted Pamela.

"How come?"

"Because I hate everyone."

"Oh" he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice –"Better than loving everyone. Look at what happened to John Lennon."

Pamela did not know who John Lennon was and didn't fancy asking; but she guessed it didn't end up well for him. Professor LeGrande was either trying to be friendly or hitting on her, and both of these options made her uncomfortable, although the latter did have an unhealthy appeal. Was she going to be one of 'these girls'? NO. she mustn't. that would be degrading. Disgusting.

Detrimentally, Pamela stuck her earphones in and turned her head towards the window. She decided to wipe these obscene thoughts out of her mind and to pass on that filthy opportunity, that could only mean trouble.

*

And now, six years later, she was deeply involved with LeGrande. This was definitely not how she envisioned her life to turn out. Dating a married man was bad enough to begin with, and having a long-distance relationship was also not ideal; and since the relationship was non-monogamist and partially professional, she began wondering if it was even romantic. She unwrapped the new kettle she only purchased this afternoon, filled it with water and plugged it in. Morgan didn't own a kettle, because why would he. He probably drank from the toilet when there was no one around.

She was tilting her head to remove an earring while stepping out of her high heeled shoes when the door burst open and Morgan was there- seemingly shaken and with his new trousers torn at the knees. What a mess that guy was. Seriously.

"G'night." Said Pamela, ignoring his appearance because he could have shown at the door with a monkey on his head for all she knew, and it would still make sense.

"You're alright." He said, putting a palm to his chest and collapsing into a chair.

"Yeah, I know. Carrying the bags from the supermarket all by myself when I don't have a car was slightly dangerous coz I have a lower back thing, but yeah, I'm alright."

The old man stared at her, but this time he wasn't drooling over her cleavage like before; he was peering into her eyes the way a madman would.

"Are you having another stroke, Morgan?" she offered coolly –"Should I call 911? Wait… it isn't 911 in this country, is it? What's the number? I'll dial it for you. And by the way-" she glanced at his desk –"You left your phone connected to the charger and the battery's full. I know living with me isn't easy, but this is a teeny tiny small request that I have-"

"I'm not having a stroke." Managed Morgan, his glasses clouded with vapours.

"Good to know." The kettle began boiling and quivering in its seat, but before she was able to turn it off, the electricity popped and the cabin was swallowed by a dense darkness.

"Shit!" cried Pamela –"Where is the electrical closet?"

She couldn't see a damn thing, apart for Morgan's phone that was still bleeping.

"I don't know." Came the answer.

"You live here, and you don't know." Said she –"Of course you don't. I'll just call Marc. Can I use your phone? I left mine in the attic."

"Go ahead." He said.

She then reached for his desk, trying not to stumble over her own shoes or bumping acutely into anything else; but once she had Morgan's phone in her hand, she pushed several buttons before realizing that she doesn't remember LeGrande's number by heart. He was her fucking boyfriend of almost six years, and he had the same number all this time, but she did not know it. Frustrated, she nearly growled in the general direction of Morgan: "Where could it possibly be?? It's probably just next to the front door!"

"Why are you so upset?" said Morgan, it _had_ to be Morgan for there was nobody else in the room, but it didn't sound like Morgan at all. It sounded like a MAN, rather than the decrepit tone he'd usually speak with. Pamela froze with the phone in her palm- only the first three numbers still shining on its screen –"Your phone should have a built-in flashlight. How do I turn it on?" she asked.

"I don't know." Came the annoying reply, and the voice emitting it was confident and captivating, like the voice of a captain or a commander. Perhaps Morgan was feeding on darkness, because this was the only time when he could feel that no one was judging him. Or perhaps she was just-

"Afraid of the dark, are you, Isley?"

Yes, yes, she was; because like plants she only thrived in the light, and like plants, she couldn't breathe when it was gone.

"No." she said –"I don't depend on electricity."

"But you do depend on your man." He dared. He fucking dared. Allegedly helpless, the remains of a person, old and crinkly and frail- but when the night fell he was fucking SATAN from HELL. How dare he.

"How dare you?!" she cried.

"Just stating the mere facts." Said he, and now she was absolutely positive that he wasn't Morgan. At least not the Morgan that she knew. Maybe all of them strokes distorted his mind so, that he was developing multiple personalities. Perhaps he was using the darkness as an outlet, a channel, through which to express the darkness within."

"I will grant you light." He said, out of nowhere –"Light for the girl who does not depend on electricity." And so he moved, swiftly, swiftly. She only guessed he was moving fast because of a sudden brush of air that was thrown against her cheek. It was scary. She heard ruffles and shuffles and before two minutes had gone by, the room was flooded with candlelight and she could once more see and breathe.

She turned on her heels to see that there were candles everywhere: on the desk, on the shelves and on the windowsills. They were all thick, chunky candles, ancient looking. And Professor Morgan was sitting across from her in his chair, looking as miserable as before, except his big mane of hair was utterly blonde.

"How… how did you…?" she muttered, confused.

"Had some candles lying around, for an emergency." His voice was old again. Pamela checked her forehead to see if she was running a fever. She wasn't.

"Thanks." She said reluctantly –"So I guess we could go and search for the electric box now."

"Alright." He said, but did not make a move. Considering how quickly he was able to fill the cabin with burning candles, that was odd on his part, but Pamela didn't mind it that much. She took one of the candles and went outside- she even circled the entire cabin- but could not find the electricity box. Defeated, she went back inside and stood in front of him while leaning against the counter, folding her arms. –"Professor Morgan-"

"Yes?"

"What happened to your knees?"

"I fell." He said simply.

"I could give you some aloe vera for it."

"What's that?"

"The essence of a plant. It will take away the sting."

"Alright."

"But we need to do that in the bathroom, if you please. I don't want to make a mess over here."

She didn’t know why she was doing it. She could have excused herself by saying that he was like her father, only she didn't have a father since the age of four, and Morgan was not like a father at all. He was more like a child. She allowed him to lean on her and led him to the bathroom, sitting him on the edge of the tub.

"You really shouldn't drink that much." She said, handing him a tube –"Just rub it into the wounds."

The old man turned the cap, squeezed the tube and picked up a fair amount of goo, smearing it across his scratches without saying anything. That was awkward, but what was more awkward was the patch of skin he revealed by pulling up his torn pants. Something dark and purple and black on his thigh that didn’t look like a scratch.

"What's that?" asked Pamela –"Where did you get that ugly thing?"

"Cruising." Was the answer.

"Cruising!" giggled Pamela humourlessly –"What? Attacked by an octopus that took out skin and tissue with it? Come on, show me."

"We are not roommates." Said Morgan –"We are not friends." She realized he was repeating her own words to her –"My stuff is my stuff, you keep your nose where it belongs- on your face."

"I wanna see that wound. Don't be a baby, Morgan."

"A baby?" he huffed "A babe is the girl seeking adventure, blindly, unknowingly, she flirts with the sharp edges of creation, but what she finds may kill her." Said he –"with an unfelt sting. Do not touch me."

"Fine." Said Pamela, angrily –"You're so sick of yourself, you believe you're a menace to society. And you know what? You really are. So sit in it. Boil in it. Hate yourself, Morgan. You'll be begging me to save you soon enough. You will. Have no doubt about it. But you don't. you don't deserve my mercy, so you've just missed you chance of having somebody like you, because you are unlikable. And your ex-students will see that soon enough, too."

She took one of the candles with her as she left the room, never knowing why she kept thinking on him, or why she was touching herself secretly in her bed when she did.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh, I found the song that I attached super-scary and dark, and I feel that this is what LeGrande did to Ivy, silenced her, and what Lucifer would never do, despite his reputation and his dark, dark tendencies.


	27. Darkness Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer finds a weakness in Ivy, and he celebrates it :P

_"The difference between night and day_ _  
We watch the moon rise and all that indicates  
I got a home in you that noon illuminates  
Together, alone in you  
I'm not running away…" **['I'm not Running Away', Feist]** _

"Here, now watch this." Said Azazel softly and rose minutely from the pillow he was leaning on. He had to gently push the two naked girls who were laid across his shining chest, and they moaned in a sleepy protest.

"Trust me, you're going to like this." He promised as he reached into the bowl of fruit that was placed at his feet many hours before, picked up a cherry and broke it with a fingernail. The little red ball exploded and the juice of it leaked over his fingers, staining them with crimson. "Come here, sweetheart." He said to one of the girls, and she leaned towards him obediently, her lips pouting in anticipation. Azazel was different then. He was well-cut and comely, with emerald eyes and hair as black as basalt, with a chest as robust as the cedars of Lebanon- so it was no wonder that the girls were drawn to him like bees to nectar. Smirking, he smeared the essence of the fruit on the waiting lips, dying them a dark and dangerous shade of red. "Now, isn't that nice?" he asked. However, the girl couldn't see herself so she didn't really know what was going on. –"Oh, kiss me, you tease!" she gurgled.

"We'll have to wait until it dries."

"Wait, what? What did you _do_?"

"Oh, Calistra, he made you _beautiful_!" said the other girl, who was staring at the entire scene with unhidden envy.

"What do you mean _made_ me beautiful?" the first girl barked –"I _am_ beautiful."

"No need to fight, my little kittens." Said Azazel –"I can do you too. Come here, buttercup." He said to the second girl, and so she pushed Calistra out of the way and took her place opposite him –"Paint my lips red as well!"

"Oh, but your lips are already so rich in colour." Calistra frowned to hear him give her friend such a compliment –"With you I shall do something new." And thus Azazel reached into the fire and picked up an ember. The two girls shivered –"No!" cried Calistra –"Do not maim her!"

"I wouldn't dream of it." Reassured Azazel and dipped the coal in his cup of wine until it cooled and softened. –"Nothing but delicacy and tenderness for you, girls." And then he used the tip of his pinky to take a little wet dust from the coal. –"Close your eyes." He said to the young woman, and when she did he painted a thin line under each of her eyes with the hand of an artist. When she opened them again Calistra cried out with wonderment –"Oh, but that is gorgeous! Panara, you look like a fairytale queen!"

"Do I? Do I truly?" inquired the girl smugly, but before Azazel could teach them anymore, Lahash entered the tent and killed the moment when he said –"Time to go, Azazel. We must return."

"Another one!" said one girl to her friend and nudged her –"You could take him, and leave Azazel to me." And she threw herself on Azazel's arm and showered his chin and neck with kisses, leaving red imprints of her wet, fat lips on his angel skin.

"No," frowned the other –"You could take him, and leave Azazel to me!" and she made a round maneuver that was like a dance and grabbed Azazel at his crotch.

"I truly apologize, my poppets." Said Azazel and removed the slender hands that were attempting to climb and to claim him, making sure to kiss each of the two passionately and thoroughly before he to his feet, unfolding his wings. His dick slid right back into its socket –"But there is no rest for the pure ones."

"What did you do to their faces??" whispered Lahash, appalled, as they left the tent with the half-naked women waving at them from behind. The tears coming down from their eyes making their primitive makeup soggy until they appeared as drowned butterflies with boobs.

"I taught them how to lure men into their snares. Apparently humans prefer a painted face to a natural one. They have a thing for vivid colours. They see something sparkly and they have a sudden urge to snatch it and cage it and enslave it."

"That is ridiculous."

"Aye…" said Azazel –"Maybe a little, if the girls overdo it. But they will learn how to make it subtle with time."

"I did not mean the women." Corrected Lahash –"I meant chasing shiny colourful things was ridiculous."

"You should say so." Azazel laughed –"You're all pale and faded."

Lahash crumbled under that insult and unconsciously swept his white hair away from his white eyes –"I do not require colours in order to value beauty or be beautiful."

"Respect!" nodded Azazel –"So… did _they_ value your detached and distant beauty? Did you manage to _do_ it?"

"Do _what_?"

"Stick the stick into one of them." Said Azazel. –"You know-" he pointed down at his now invisible rod.

"I do not reckon I have the will to." Replied Lahash with a discontented expression on his worried-to-begin-with face. –" _Or_ the stamina."

"Do not be foolish, brother dear. You could just lie on your back and they would take care of you. Trust me on this one."

"Ti's unbecoming. And dirty."

"Hmmm… I guess it could be a little dirty." Replied Azazel, rubbing his jaw and flexing it.

"And they _cry out_ when you enter them, as though they were in _pain_."

"Oh, but they _are_ in pain." Explained Azazel –"at least as first, and then it turns into pleasure. You see, women are born with innate pain, because of Eve. Men are born with murder in their bones, because of Adam. But once you get past that-"

"I do not care for it." Said Lahash adamantly –"So I simply removed mine. You have no need of talking me further into it."

"You did _what_??" the fact that his jaw was still held in his hand was probably the only thing that prevented it from dropping to the ground. 

"I got rid of it." Said Lahash proudly –"It felt like a weapon, and I am against weapons. So why would I want to carry that thing around? Everything you did down here is wrong. I hope you know it. I won't tell anyone, because I swore to you that I wouldn't, but asking me to be at ease with everything I saw would be inconsiderate and –"

"Fine. We won't take you again." Said Azazel, angrily.

"Very well. Don't take me. But you will need someone to tell you when it's time to go, because you get too immersed in sin to notice it."

"Take your advice and shove it up your bottom." Growled Azazel.

"How would I do that when it doesn't have a hole?"

"Just forget about it."

The jolly band of angels was making its way back to the Silver-City. Azza still had a girl hanging on his arm, and he was _drunk_. Watching his brothers unwind for what had been many days of Earth time, Lucifer discovered a handful of new things: for example, he learnt that the apple didn't land far from the tree, for the daughters or Eve, like their deceased mother, preferred angels over men. At times they would even be with a guy, and ditch him on spot the moment the angels arrived in the town without bothering to explain. Secondly, he learnt that the sons and daughters of the angels, conceived in previous visits, were strong and stout, taller than any man and broad at the shoulders. The humans admired them almost as much as they adored the angels, and they called them 'heroes' and praised them night and day (because except for shiny colours, humans were also impressed by anything that was large…). Thirdly, he learnt about alcohol- the liquid that smelled funny and was lighter than water and burnt the throat. The humans consumed it regularly, and for some reason they would always offer it to the angels when they met them. Lucifer guessed it was a gesture of hospitality and honor, and he knew in his heart that they meant well. Nevertheless, the booze made the angels tipsy and boorish, and sometimes violent; and in spite of that unwanted effect, they would keep on drinking, even when the consequences were disastrous. 

And thus, the three of them were now drunk and two of them were swaggering, singing at the top of their lungs as they walked under the moon; Azza stopping from time to time because he was about to fall, and because he wanted another taste of the lips of his giggling girl.

"I shall build you a temple, my pretty!" he bragged –"It is as easy as breathing to me!"

"YES!" cried the girl and clapped giddily –"Build me a beautiful temple, and I will sit in it and look at the stars and wait for you to come back to me."

"Easy peasy!"

"Azza, we really need to go back-" whispered Lahash and approached him, because his voice was so low and he had to be close to whoever he spoke to –"They are bound to miss us, and they will come searching for us at some point."

"Shut it!" shouted Azza and pushed his brother so hard that he crashed against a tree. One of his wings broke and hung loosely from his back. Lucifer was horrified.

Azza, who was usually such a good-spirited, friendly angel, was now raw and blustering with madness in his eyes –"I will take the biggest stones from the highest mountain." He declared and raised his arms towards the skies. –"and I shall plant them in the ground, to show the humans that something bigger and better was once here!"

"Bigger and better!" repeated his human lover, half-whispering. Soon enough hovering boulders, larger than towers zoomed in and circled him in the air. Frightened, Azazel had to duck several times as the rocks flew past him and almost knocked him over.

"What are you doing, brother?" he demanded.

"I am leaving them a souvenir." Answered Azza and laughed as though he were possessed. "A circle within a circle." He continued, and one by one the big stones landed on the muddy earth and stuck in it, forming an inner circle and an outer one, chiseling themselves until they were all as smooth as leaves.

"Oh, it _is_ a temple!" the girl called out with enthusiasm and began dancing around the monument, touching the cool stones and hugging them, feeling up their texture and their eerie, silent disapproval. No. The girl probably couldn't sense how the stones abhorred this act, and how they criticized their conceited master covertly.

"And tomorrow, when the sun shines," said Azza, while Lahash was trying spells to fix his broken wing, blood running from the top of his head and staining his white hairs. "His first ray will form a straight line from here to there-" and he painted a line with his finger in the air. He had no right. No right at all. Earth was Lucifer's.

*

A whole week had passed rather quietly. Lucifer would spend the daytime reading Morgan's research (and getting more and more impressed) and at nighttime he would follow Pamela to her boyfriend's cabin and listen in on their conversations. He found out that they were dating for a long time. Years. He discovered that LeGrande did have a wife that he was not going to divorce, and that Pamela got used to the idea. But the strangest thing was the solutions LeGrande was feeding her with. Usually without her knowledge- slipping them into her drink, shooting it up her veins when she didn't even seem to feel the sting- but sometimes he would beg her to take them, and sometimes he was even successful with this inelegant method, getting her to say 'Yeah, alright' and some point. That seemed to make him the happiest. But no matter what would pass between them before the dubious solution was given to her, they would always ascend to his room after, and Lucifer could only guess what happened there. Probably fucking. There was no reason to believe anything other than that transpired, because they did come across as a passionate pair. But then one afternoon something weird occurred.

While he was at the professor's desk, trying to solve a Rubik's Cube puzzle without smashing it, the curtain was suddenly and fiercely pushed aside and Pamela stepped out of her part of the room and picked up the cube, throwing it to the floor –"There." She said poisonously.

"I wasn't searching for a place to put it, and even if I was, the floor wouldn't be it."

"I know what you were trying to do." Huffed Pamela –"And it was annoying." 

"You _also_ know I cannot duck." Said Lucifer in Morgan's voice –"Why are you bullying me? I didn't eat your rice, I swear. I had cold peas for breakfast and carrots for lunch. They were on my shelf in the fridge, unless you put them there by mistake-"

"I need you to fuck me." Said Pamela in a measured tone. No, it was not measured. It was _bossy_. And she was already unbuttoning her blouse.

"What." Said Lucifer –"Have you gone mental?" 

"No. between us two, _you_ are the mental one. My body has _cycles_. That ticking sound was drilling into my brain and now I get why. So."

"So what?"

"So I need to get fucked, right now. Otherwise I won't be able to focus on my work, so get out of your clothes and lets get it over with. Ide be happy if you didn't make a big deal out of it, Morgan." She eyed him warningly, her green bra now showing behind the half-open blouse, and even better- her round breasts resting there, like two full moons. He recalled wishing he could have ordered her to undress the first time they met; but now that it was happening without him being in control of the situation, it was only a sad reminder of his time as Lilith's husband – which was a complete turn off.

"No." said Lucifer, straightening his glasses on his big nose and staring at her with disbelief.

-"No you wouldn't make it into a big deal, or no you won't do it?"

"I'm busy" (it's all he could come up with, really).

"Doing what? Playing with your toys?"

"Have your boyfriend do it. Isn't that his _job_?"

"My boyfriend," said Pamela –"Can't get it up. Hasn't been able to for years. Happy now?" she let go of her blouse for a second and fired an angry look at him. Her eyes were luminescent, as though they were dipped in phosphorus, and her hands were shaking.

"Why would I be happy about it, when you now expect _me_ to _fill in_ for him. So to speak."

"You really are something, Morgan." Said Pamela, walking over to the window and closing the blinds. There was always a boy or few walking aimlessly about the cabin these days, desperately hoping to get a glimpse of her –"What reason could you possibly have to turn me down, except for nourishing your ego."

"That's reason enough." Answered Lucifer –"Call Clyde or Harvey, or both. They'd love to do you that service."

"Don't you get it!?" cried Pamela –"I can't fuck one of the university boys, or the word would spread, and then… my life would be ruined."

"Why?"

"Seriously, Morgan. It's like we don't even live on the same planet."

"Is it."

"Oh, for crying out loud!" She looked as though she was about to burst into tears, and somewhere inside him Morgan's empathy pushed him to take her in his arms and offer her a cup of tea, but he kicked that repulsive idea and trampled it.

"Anyways… nevermind it." She added with a sigh and picked up his cube from the floor, wiping away the invisible dust and handing it to him –"I thought you'd be thrilled."

Lucifer took the cube silently and watched her closing her eyes for a moment, mumbling something that he couldn't hear, and then she left him at his desk and went upstairs, slamming the door behind her. Following the initial shock, he considered Morgan's body. The wretched, wrecked thing could hardly get out of bed in the morning. How would he hold up to the task of fucking this magnificent, luminescent sex explosion of a woman without dying in the process. And to boot, what would she think of him once she'd seen him without any clothes on? YUCK. That shriveled piglet of a cock nestling in his pubic hairs. The ripples of redundant skin in his underbelly. The hairs in his ears… No. It would be a colossal fiasco.

But then he'd heard her weeping upstairs and while Morgan's heart turned into a mush, his own instincts got starker and sharper, and they began driving past Morgan's touchy personality, reminding him of his own. He used to love it when they cried. The hunter in him was awakening and telling him to go and get that girl. He got up from his desk and shuffled heavily in his slippers (brown with two little teddy-bears on them. Clyde brought it with the rest of the clothes), having to hold unto the banister as he climbed the steps and thinking about what to say, and how to say it; eventually deciding that thinking was futile. He had to act.

Lucifer reached out and wanted to knock on the door, but instead tried the knob. This one time, it worked, and the door opened for him. He was almost amazed because he used to try it everyday in vain. Now, however, it swayed smoothly on its hinges and he saw where she was living for the first time: a claustrophobic attic room with a wooden tilting ceiling, a large window with a rusty frame that opened inwards and there were plants almost everywhere. There was even a climber vine hugging the closet, and Lucifer wondered how in Hell it managed to grow that fast. Pamela was sitting on her bed, pressing a pillow to her stomach, and she was startled to see him coming in.

"Get the fuck out!" she yelled and threw the pillow at him. He deflected it with an open palm. Morgan's instincts were improving, after all.

"I thought you wanted me to get the fuck in." said he.

"I'm feeling different now."

"So do I." he replied. –"You've just taken me by surprise, but I _will_ do it."

"No, thank you."

"Enough." Said Lucifer, finding himself stepping into the room. Professor Morgan's muscles were resisting it, begging him to give the girl some privacy, but he's had enough of that defeated attitude.

"Morgan, I'm serious." Pamela got out of bed and stepped closer to him. He noticed that she wasn't wearing her glasses. They were on her desk that was burdened with dozens of exotic plants, damn weird things with thorns and… teeth! –"You are invading my personal space."

"Isley."

"What."

"I do not fancy games. Turn around and get back into that bed. And take the rest of your clothes off, unless you'd rather I tore them."

To his amazement, Pamela giggled through her tears. This authoritative tone worked for him when he was the Lord of Hell, but somehow in Morgan's voice is sounded more as a joke. At that point he honestly wished he had some of that solution LeGrande used on her, since it clearly helped to put her in the mood.

"You won't be laughing for long." He assured her, or perhaps he was talking to himself because she seemed to have missed that.

"Morgan. Thanks. I get… whore-maniac and horny due to these _hormones_ – and it's just… a girl thing. Thank you for making me laugh and for being a sport. I mean these slippers are _hilarious_ \- and just- thanks."

But Miss Isley, hor-maniac or not, did not know him, and she did not know how unexpectedly quick he could be when he wanted to move quickly. He let her take a second to gather her thoughts, wipe away her tears and say something like –"As you're not busy anymore, we could go out and grab a bite, I'm _starving_. Let me just get my glasses."

He only needed that moment, when she was with her back to him to transform, slam the window and blinds shut and turn off the light. Isley screamed and he heard her glasses drop to the floor. Once again they were engulfed in total darkness and Lucifer could feel his energy regenerating in his angel form, although he dared not manifest his wings in such a small space. "What's going on?! What happened?!" cried Isley, panic in her voice.

"Nothing happened yet, but we are, eventually, going to follow your original suggestion." He said in his own voice, and it was liberating.

" _Morgan_??" she asked skeptically.

"Call me Lou." He said, removed his own glasses and put them on a high shelf and then approached her from behind, placing his hands on her shoulders and relishing the tremble under his fingers, and the fact she couldn't see in the dark.

"Are you… an actor?" she asked, tensing in his hold.

"No." replied the Demon-Lord as the tension built up in her muscles, like a wild animal preparing to make a run for it. But she would not run from him. He'd make sure of it.

"Your voice sounds different."

"Some of us _transform_ when darkness falls." He teased and slid her blouse off her shoulders, slowly. It dropped past her waist without a sound and fell to her feet.

"Yes, if they are werewolves or vampires."

"Or little girls who dress up and run into the forest to meet with their boyfriends."

"I don't transform when I see him."

"Really." Said Lucifer and did not expect an answer. He just left the question hovering there as he descended to touch his lips to her neck. Her smell was tantalizing. He would always pick lovers that smelled good, but this one was a different type of smell. It seemed to grab him at the guts and _force_ him to plunge another kiss right there. And another. Groaning, he looped his arm around her half-naked body and pressed her to him, almost frenzied with the drive to take her, when he'd usually postpone and linger.

"Woah-" blurted Pamela –"Where did _that_ come from? I didn't think you'd be-"

"You said you thought Ide be thrilled." Growled Lucifer –"This is the thrilled me." And with that he picked her up and tossed her on the bed effortlessly.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took longer to write this one because real life. soz :/


	28. If You Should Fall into My Arms, and Tremble Like a Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer gets closer, much closer, to Ivy.

_"Calming down with my head in the sand_ _  
Come away, come away  
To begin, let's get closer  
Doesn't he love me?  
Just sit by the withered trees  
Resting my knees  
Because I'm losing comfort  
Doesn't it feel right?  
  
Mystical  
When you're blowing your hair in the perfect waves  
You're trying your best just to push me away  
I can't ever tell since you were never there to begin  
  
My angel in loneliness  
My angel lonely_ _"['My Angel Lonely', Wild Nothing]_

Once Isley was on the bed, Lucifer hurried to follow with a lunge and was aiming to land on top of her; but he was so focused on his victim that he didn't notice the plant hanging from the low ceiling that was in the way and hit it full-force with his forehead. There was a bang and a crash as the clay dish flew out of its seating and shattered on the floor, while the chains that were holding the entire constellation together separated from the hook and rained down on his head and neck.

"Did you just headbutt my flowerpot?" commented Pamela with amusement.

Lucifer did not answer. He pulled the chains from around his neck and threw them on the bed, for later. Ignoring the heat in his forehead, he crawled up her body and silenced her giggle with a palm to her lips, just checking to see what it does to her, really. –"Hush." He muttered –"You're nervous."

This was his _territory_ , his field of expertise (as opposed to Archeology), and he was going to put all of his methods into practice in just a little while. Or so he hoped. With his hand still on her mouth, he rubbed his nose on her exposed neck, feeling her breasts squashed against his chest and her heavy breathing in his ear. But however breathy she was, he was in a much worse condition. He was worriedly derailed by her scent, almost to the point of a primal, mindless force whose survival was dependent on inhaling that invigorating odor; and tempestuously trying to drink it, which was impossible. _He'd have to rip her open for that_. He was considering it.

But first he needed to get a grip. He needed to overcome these unexpected sensations that conquered him, because he was no good as a loose cannon, and he had the history to prove it. All of these reckless, impetuous nights with Mazikeen in which he did not know himself; the terror that seized him when he'd wake up of his trance, recognizing that he was responsible for everything that's happened, because he was so darn irresponsible. He was not going to let that reoccur. Slowly, he let go of Pamela's face and moved to leaving burning kisses on her jawline and her neck; but as his upper body played along with the hiatus, his southern part developed incongruous independence.

"Christ, you're a beast, Morgan." Commented Pamela while he pressed his aching loins against her. –"Did you take Viagra or something when I went upstairs?"

Not knowing what that meant, The Demon-Lord pulled up a little so he could peer at her voluptuous breasts in the darkness, before pulling down her bra with intensity that broke it, taking one of the breasts in his mouth and sucking on it fiercely. "Ouch!" cried Isley and slapped him on his shoulder –"Easy."

This wasn't going well. He was losing control, plus letting her touch him wasn't a good idea at all. Using his own voice and body was dangerous enough as it was. Lucifer let go of that delicious tit with unwillingness and took a deep breath. Although she could not see him, her eyes were fixated on his, sending a spurring rush from the back of his neck to the small of his back. He almost whimpered with want as his rod commoved and swelled in the prison of his pants. But he could not succumb to that pressure, for his partner was not under his spell quite yet. If anything, it was the other way around.

"Easy?" he asked in a hoarse voice –"No. I do not intend to go easy on you."

"Jesus." Panted Isley, and it was hard to determine whether she was excited or disturbed –"Morgan, I'm a delicate flower." _Was she teasing him?_ Because if she was, he was about to make her regret it. He clasped her two wrists in his hands and placed them next to her shoulders -"You cannot touch me." He said.

"Just when it got interesting." Pouted Pamela –"What, am I supposed to just lie there while you pound into me?"

"That's the idea." Rumbled the angel –"I intend to tie you up now, and you're going to be a good girl about it."

"Are you embarrassed?" asked Pamela with caution while he picked up the chains that fell with the plant –"about your body…?"

"Not at the very least." He looped the chain around her left wrist. It was rusty and tough, but it will have to do. Then he coiled it around her right wrist and tightened the two knots together.

"Have you got control issues then? Is that why you wouldn't let me take a look at your wound?"

At that point Lucifer had to grit his teeth so that he doesn't slap her. Somewhere in the depth of his being, he knew that it wasn't the right thing to do. Instead he settled for pulling hard on the chains before moving to bind the rest of them around her neck- to make her hands and throat secured together in one big bond.

"Hey, wait- you're not-"

"I told you to be a good girl about it." Muttered the Demon-Lord, a shot of adrenaline swaying him for the fear in her voice –"But you sound like you're starting to question me. What is it that scares you?"

It was genuinely hard to speak with that singe in his dragon, but now that she was bound he had at least the illusion of being in charge and something in him calmed down to an extent.

"What if you're a rapist."

"What if I am."

"I mean. I don't really know you. This could get out of hand."

"It's certainly out of _your_ hands now, Miss delicate flower." He said and leaned back somewhat to distance himself a bit from that hazardous scent –"What are you wearing?"

"Erm…isn't that something that you're supposed to ask over the phone?" Isley sounded confused –"When you can't see the other person? Oh, right. You can't see me because you turned off the light, because you're being weird. Guys usually _love_ seeing me while we do this. You can turn it on again, I don't mind."

" _What_ are you _wearing_." Repeated Lucifer and grabbed her hair, out of instinct. It was tangled, but soft. Thick and wild, like a jungle.

"Woah, you really are kinky. Ooookay, so I was wearing a white top, which you gently removed; and a black lace bra, which you violently tore- I really liked that one, by the way-"

"I meant your perfume!" gritted Lucifer –"What _is_ it?"

"Oh, I'm not wearing any."

"Right." Said The Morningstar and took off Morgan's undershirt that was still on him (the buttoned one exploded when he transformed) and began tying it around her head, to cover her eyes. –"We'll wash it off either way." She offered no resistance as he raised her head from the pillow to make the shirt into a blindfold. Was she keen, or merely curious to see what he'd do? Were his powers working like they should?

"I just needed a fuck, you know." Reminded him Pamela –"Most guys would finish the business in 7 minutes top, including foreplay. What _are_ you doing?!"

"Creating better conditions for said activity."

"Now I know why they say you're a nutt- whoop-!" she cried in surprise as he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her from the bed and throwing her over his shoulder –"You can't carry me all the way to the bathroom, Morgan, you'll have yourself another stroke!"

Lucifer walked across the room, opened the door and began striding down the steps, wishing all the windows closed and the lights off on the way. He knew she couldn't see a thing, but the boys hovering around the cabin could- hence the total blackness he imposed on the place. He kicked the bathroom door open and unloaded Pamela on the wet floor. She still had her socks on and her hands were attached to her neck, which was a beautiful sight.

"I'm kinda sorry I asked you now."

"Because you're uncomfortable?"

_"Obviously."_

"Believe me, it could get much worse with me." Said Lucifer and picked the showerhead. He turned on the water and pushed Pamela backwards until her back hit the wall and she blurted a silent 'oof'. One strap of her bra was still hung on her left shoulder. –"I believe you." She replied as the water touched first to her arm, and then down to her hips, soaking her pants that were still on.

"Good." Said he –"Then you won't be surprised if I surprise you-" with his free hand Lucifer grabbed a cleaning brush from the cabinet next to the door. It was meant to scrub mold off the tiles and had rough plastic fibers – a temperate tool of torture- but he had nothing else within reach. He held it in his mouth while he poured a generous amount of liquid soup on her naked shoulders and torso. No, not generous. _Immense_. He squeezed the bottle until it was half empty, trying to drown her impossible scent with an engineered one, that had the pretense of being 'Chamomile' but smelled nothing like it- and then dropped it to the floor.

"JESUS, Morgan! You reckon I stink or something?? Maybe you want me to drink it too?"

Lucifer took the brush from between his teeth.

"Do not give me any ideas, because I might consider them. Now stop shouting and turn around."

"Baaahh!" cried Pamela, but to his astonishment, she turned without making a fuss. He could hardly control the smile that was blooming on his face. A real, sanguine smile. It almost scared him because he couldn't remember when he last grinned in such a manner. With such… _naturalness_. So he wiped it off right away and tore the remains of her bra from her body, tossing them aside.

"Do you really get crazier as you get older?" she turned her head towards him, although her eyes were covered.

"Perhaps."

"Then I better die before I'm 30, because I honestly don't wanna know how much crazier I can get."

"Death wouldn't make you any saner."

"But fucking might."

"We'll have to wait and see."

Lucifer has never washed anyone before, save for Maggot, his horse. He had taken great joy in that routine, and he was going to use the exact same techniques in this case. Of course, he wished he had the massive and coarse horse brushes with him right now, but the plastic brush was a good start as any, plus he did not have the will to overwhelm her with pain at this vulnerable stage. He commenced rubbing the soap into her shoulders with his hand, noting the tough muscles he was feeling- clenched and rigid- so he rubbed harder, like he would with his horse after a long ride.

At first he got only sounds of protest, but after a while they grew weaker and weaker and Pamela stopped resisting him and was leaning on the wall in front of her for support, placing her tied hands on the sides of her head, although he's never asked her to.

"I-"

"No, don't speak." Said he, recognizing when a lover of his was falling under –"Clear your mind". 

"You know I never really understood what that meant." She commented. –"I can't stop thinking. I mean, who can? I think-"

"You think. That is the problem." Lucifer replaced his hand with the brush without warning. He got a cry of objection as the fibers touched her skin and she attempted to push herself off the wall but he shoved her back into place –"Stay." He said, like he would to a dog –"It isn't that bad."

"It isn't nice either!" she yelled and kicked the wall.

"You're acting like a child." Said Lucifer calmly, enjoying this way more than he should have. He honestly just wanted to get that scent off her, originally; but this was turning into something much more fulfilling. He pressed her head against the wall with one hand, and with the other he scoured her shoulder-blades under the brush, and then her back, moving the brush in big circles. It chafed and scratched the skin, and even in the semi-darkness he could see it reddening, and he loved it.

Slowly but surely her rebellious sounds turned into deep moans of pleasure. He could see how her fingertips pushed hard against the china tiles and he put more energy into his brush work in response. Once the skin was tender and raw, he put the brush aside and picked up another bottle of liquid soup that said 'Pineapple' and smelled exactly like the previous one. Once again he poured it over her, but this time she cried out and made an attempt to turn around –"It stings, you bastard!"

"Oh, I know." He replied composedly –"Some of the best things in the universe come with pain. I'm almost done. It won't be long now."

"Done doing what?!"

"Washing that scent off you, as I said. Were you not paying attention?" he said softly, rubbing the soap into the now sore skin of her back, moving upwards with every second motion, into her hair, and massaging it into her scalp as well. It took him a second or two to realize that she was crying. The smell of tears hit him first, like a long-forgotten memory of his past conquests and achievements, making his dragon attentive and impatient. Then came the shudder in her body.

"No need for that." He muttered, putting the bottle away and looping his two arms around her body, holding her tightly.

"I don't even know why I'm letting you do this, Morgan!" she said wetly –"This is insane."

But he knew why. He knew very well. He was the Devil, and she invited him in. True, she had done so unknowingly, but it mattered not to the universal bureaucracy. She invited him in, and he accepted the invitation. And now she was his to rule over and manipulate. These humans were all so naïve and susceptible. All of them girls were like birds. He moved his hands further down to unbutton her pants.

*

Grim news greeted the angels when they arrived back in the Silver-City. From a distance, they could already spot Gabriel and Michael standing on the icy platform, awaiting their return. Azza, Azazel and Lahash did remain in their microscopic forms in hope to avoid their brothers, but Michael put up his hand in a dominating gesture and stopped them from hovering any further into the city.

"Show your true faces, brothers." He said firmly.

Azza was the first to transform. It was truly heartbreaking to see him falling to his knees, in all his glory, in front of Michael.

"We simply went for a tour." He lied to Michael, almost crying –"You will not punish us for that, surely."

"Surely." Answered Michael coldly –"Not for _that_."

"Then what for??" said Azazel who was the second to transform and wear his angel shape –"We went to check up on the humans, to see that they are well."

"Shall I cut out his tongue?" offered Gabriel who aimed his spear at Azazel's face –"T'is a lying tongue in an _angel's_ mouth!"

"Leave that to God." Said Michael –"He shall pass the judgement."

"What? Is he back?" Azza raised his head, his face washed with tears.

"He never left." Replied Michael, looking down on his kneeling brother –"You are facing a trial. Back on your feet, brother. Groveling will not save you from this one. Now. There was a third brother with you. Where is he?"

"I am here." Whispered Lahash. All of the angels turned their heads to see him curled on the platform, cradled in his own arms and rocking back and forth –"I've done nothing wrong." He muttered, over and over again –"I've done nothing wrong."

Gabriel frowned at that sight –"I told you he'd be no good as a spy!" he told Michael –"Look at him! He's broken!"

"He did what he had to do." Concluded Michael peacefully –"He was never good for anything else. Let us go now." And with that heavy golden manacles appeared on Azza and Azazel's wrists and ankles and their wings vanished. Azza screamed in horror and threw himself flat on the floor –"NO!" he cried –"Please, please don't, brother dear!" and he was kissing Michaels sandaled feet desperately.

"You do not deserve to be an angel." Said Michael and spat in his brother's face "Angels are not guided by whims, and they are not controlled by their –"

"Penises." Said Gabriel.

"Yes, those things. Thank you."

"Then why did he create them, eh?!" yelled Azazel, writhing in his chains –"Why did he create them, unless he wanted us to use them??"

"To test us, you idiot." Said Michael –"And you failed the test. Come away, now." The two sinful angels were forced into the air, as a great wind came to carry them. Then they were pushed in the direction of God's chambers. Lahash remained where he was, mumbling nonsense.

"What about him?" asked Gabriel, pointing his spear at the white angel.

"What about him." Said Michael indifferently –"He grew one as well."

"I cut it off!" cried Lahash, and this was the first and only time that he actually yelled –"I cut it off! I cut it off right away!"

"He cut it off." Repeated Gabriel.

"The fact that he even grew one in the first place tells us that he's tainted. Forget him. God will decide what to do with him later on."

And with that, the angels turned and began walking behind the two prisoners, into the Silver-City, but just before they disappeared Michael hesitated and turned around again, holding his hand in the air with his eyes squinted. –"Hold on a moment." He said.

"What's wrong, brother dear?" asked Gabriel and blinked.

"There is another angel here."

*


	29. Sympathy for the Devil

_"Never was one_ _for a Prissy girl  
Coquette, Call in for an ambulance  
Reach high  
Doesn't mean she's holy  
Just means she's got a cellular handy  
Almost brave  
Almost pregnant  
Almost in love _

_Vanilla_ _…" [ **'Siren', Tori Amos** ] _

They never touched each other before the end of that year, when he was no longer her Professor. That could be said in their defense at least, but that's probably the only thing. It was LeGrande's going away party that took place in one of the other students' apartments. Everyone fancied LeGrande and so they actually quarreled over who was going to arrange the party and be responsible for it. A girl named Tiffani or Stefany had the questionable pleasure of hosting it in the end, because she had the largest apartment and no roommates. Around 50 people arrived at the party, and most of them were students. The Professors who did come to say their goodbyes hurried to leave, for feeling misplaced and detached. Most of the students were just getting drunk and make out with one another, like they would do at any party.

Pamela herself spent most of the nightmarish event sitting on a couch and following LeGrande with her eyes, with a heavy load on her chest. Something big and almost painful was blocking her breathing, frightening and restless, it was clutching her inner parts with a grip of death. She was jealous when he flirted with other girls. She was wanting to walk over to him and slap him. She was focusing on the gold ring that shone on his finger. She even considered making a scene, but lacked the guts or the viciousness to do it. And she was _miserable_. The thought of never seeing him again, never hearing him uttering her name with that corky French accent. It was bashing her insides and racking at her brain.

The worst part was when Tiffani or Stefani or Bethany or whatever her name was gave him a shot of vodka and placed a piece of lemon right in his mouth. She would never forget his smile when he took it with his lips, so sordid. That was when she got up and went to the kitchen, because she could not bear seeing him letting himself go in another's company. Then again, she was too obsessed with him to leave the party altogether. _Was she waiting for something to happen?_

Earlier that evening, when LeGrande wasn't even there yet, Pamela had asked the other students not to use disposable dishes, and as compensation offered to wash everything at the end of the night. And thus, she was now facing a gigantic pile of dishes at the sink, in this stranger's apartment, and began washing them automatically. There was no need to think about anything, really. She merely opened the tap and passed one glass after the other through the process of soaping, rubbing and cleansing, ignoring the tears in her eyes, when she felt his presence in the room.

He had that talent, LeGrande, of sucking all the air out of a space. When he'd walk into a room, the atmosphere would change, as if all things and people just _gravitated_ towards him, for he carried that foreign and dark alchemy, as though he'd come from another dimension. However, she did not wish him to see her tears and kept on washing the diches mechanically. Until:

"Ivy." He said softly. He'd call her by that nickname sometimes, as in a joke. But right now it wasn't funny or amusing at all. She did not reply, only sensed him walking in her direction, before stopping right behind her.

"Have I offended you?"

"YES." She said sharply and a plate slipped from between her fingers and shuttered in the sink –"shit."

"Oh." Said he –"I see. How should I make it up to you?"

"Just forget it." She began picking up the broken pieces and placing them on the counter. Anything to not turn around. Not see those lips, that sucked on a lemon and barely touched her classmate's fingers.

"There are, of course, many options laying in front of us." he continued, his tone analytical- the same one he would use in the classroom –"Would you have liked me to take you in front of all these people? I am sorry if I misread your signals. Come on, take your clothes off and we could go to the living room and do it on the sofa, for the world to see. I'm sure it will be on Instagram in no time. Me in my underclothes and you, finally, out of that hideous hoody. I gotta say-" he added, casually –"I was hoping you would at least show up in something more revealing to a _party_ \- but that was just a fantasy."

She couldn't believe she was hearing this. She was mute; with her heart beating so hard it almost flew out of her chest.

"Or we could stay here and get caught in an unbecoming position. Say… you opening my shirt, while I massage these gorgeous boobs that you hide so well. Mmm?" 

She blushed. She swallowed, and her spirit seemed to float, drifting away from her body.

"No?" he said.

"No." she replied silently, but her jaws were stuck and heavy.

"You know better than that." He stepped closer, and now she could feel his body heat next to her back –"And you also know how much I crave for you. So ditch the drama." He placed his hand on her hip and she almost collapsed. Bowing her head until it was brushing the still running tap. The waters were flowing freely now, but she wasn't washing anything anymore. Her heartbeat soared and she breathed hard when he leaned to place his chin on her shoulder, gently, gingerly.

"Turn around, Ivy." He said.

Slowly, she turned, not knowing if she could take it. And once she was facing him, she looked at the floor. She remembered his shiny shoes. Brown and pointy.

"Do you not know how attractive you are?" he asked, pulling up her chin with a soft nudge of his hand. His other hand was still on her hip and squeezed there. –"You'll have what you want from me, if you truly want it."

It was then when she stood on tiptoes and searched for his lips, but he backed away.

"If I touch you now, I won't be able to stop." He said and petted her cheek –"You are a wild woman, Isley. Under all these inhibitions. I've lived long enough to know you for what you are. I want you to think about it. I want you to consider it. Don't act on instinct, because I am serious about you, although I know it doesn't look like it right now. Think about it, and if you decide that you want to see me again, for real, come see me in France."

"France? I… I don't have the money to go abroad." She muttered, stupidly. 

"I'll pay for the ticket."

"I'd feel guilty."

"If you feel guilty, then you don't want it bad enough, and if you don't want it bad, don't come." He said simply and kissed her shortly on her mouth. His taste was formidable.

"You have my email address. Write me anytime. Think about it." 

And he left her in the kitchen and went back to the party. His presence lingered there although he was gone, and she knew she was in for a disaster. Or at the very least, a once-in-a-lifetime fuck; and though nothing happened yet, there was no way to take it back.

*

And now she was in Morgan's arms. Perhaps it was time to seek therapy, because of her attraction to older men; but then again, this guy didn't _feel_ old. His arms were strong and the fingers that were now poking inside her pants were quick and nimble and they were turning her on regardless of his age. Of course, she didn't need much to be turned on these days that followed her period- but even with that in mind, the man knew what he was doing. She found it hard to believe that he was this ancient professor who drowned himself in filth and aliens. No. there was something else about him which was more than meets the eye. _Or_ the body, in this case.

"Morgan-" she panted as his finger was circling her clit over her underwear, making her wet.

"What?" he breathed on her ear with that voice, the voice of the commander.

"Who are you, really?"

" _Who_ are _you_?" he returned –"The girl looking for danger." Then he tightened his grip around her, and now she could sense his erection on her buttocks – a long and hard cane that made itself present with pride. This was not the dick of an old man, and she had seen and fumbled at least one…

"I was looking for a fuck, not danger." Said she, barely, because his lips were on her shoulder and they were hot. The burning scratches on her back burnt worse when he pressed his firm chest against them.

"Aye." Said he, which was weird –"But you've picked the wrong man for it." Once again he lifted her, and this time she put her arms around his neck for support, without thinking. He hummed in contentment and said –"No protests?"

"I don't know what's going on, so I don't see the point to it."

"Or perhaps you enjoy this."

"Except the brush part."

"The brush was necessary." He said, and the world was swirling in her private darkness, a door opened and a door closed and a dizziness turned in her belly as she was thrown into the air again and landed on something soft. A mattress. _His bed?_

"Morgan-"

"More questions?" her pants were pulled down, forcibly, for they were soaking wet and stuck to her skin. She helped him remove them with some kicking and wriggling.

"Well, yes. I'd like to know what exact-"

His lips were on hers, kissing. No, not kissing, this was an attack. He claimed her mouth with a sincere passion, _something LeGrande hasn't done in a long time_ ; and he did so with the wildness of a wolf. Licking and sucking on her lips until they ached while holding her face with his hands and growling into her mouth, as though he was out of control. At first she was frozen, but the persistent incursions and the hotness of it all made her lose herself, and she found that she was whimpering into the kiss. She felt him smiling in reply.

_This wasn't Morgan_. Couldn't have been Morgan. And when he eased the kiss somewhat she panted –"Morgan, what big arms you have-"

"Better to pin you down with, my dear." He answered and pulled on the chains until her hands were over her head and she was completely helpless. With her underwear only and wrapped in darkness all around. With his body weight pressing on her and her mind ablaze.

"You know how the rest of the story goes?" he chuckled.

"I know."

"Say your next line, then."

"No."

Laughing like the madman he was, Morgan turned her over on her stomach and loomed above her, nibbling her ear –"Say it." And there it was once more. That massive cock poking at her behinds. She gasped before uttering –"What… big dick you have…"

He laughed again –"Wrong comment." He said and bit so hard on her neck that she thought she might faint for a moment–"Try again."

"Ahhh!" cried Pamela and fought him to no avail. He was strong, like a wrestler, and whatever force she put into pushing him away was as futile as the efforts of a mosquito trying to break free from spiderwebs.

"You'll get a bite for every wrong line." He said simply –"and 'Ahhh!' is definitely wrong." And then his teeth sank deep into her skin, at the side of her neck; but this time he was prepared for her to ricochet and she couldn't even shift beneath him. He was holding her down with the composure and casualness of someone sipping tea. 

There was no choice but to give the lunatic what he wanted, and after she squealed Pamela mumbled –"What big teeth you have-", her voice shaky and her forehead covered in sweat.

"Better to devour you with, my dear." He replied smugly and the pressure lifted from her back. Before she had a chance to assess the new situation, she felt him sliding down and spreading her legs and then his face was there. In her garden. She made a sound that was the blend of a whine and a croon as his teeth grazed her over the fabric of the underwear. Fearing the danger, not knowing if his next bite will be delivered to her most sensitive spot; and yet indulging in the idea of it.

"Fuck, Morgan!" she whispered into the pillow, spreading her legs further to grant him more access and practically screaming when he pulled the cloth sideways with his teeth and blew on her wet flower. "I want to see you, please."

"No."

"PLEASE."

"I said no."

"Your wife was a darn lucky woman."

"Quit talking, Isley." Said he, his voice coming out muffled from between her legs –"Or I will shove something in your mouth to shut you up." This turned her on even more, and a part of her wanted to keep talking and see what he'd come up with; However, as that long and hungry tongue entered her she stopped thinking altogether. And it was, _exceptionally_ long. It extended past her folds and into her depth, and it was as solid as a finger and as flexible as a snake. It twisted inside her until it located a spot so tender, and when it teased that spot she felt like she needed to pee, and at the same time was flushed by a sensation of the utmost pleasure and she moaned loudly. She didn't even care if people outside could hear.

But despite the fact this guy has a functioning penis (as opposed to LeGrande), _he fucking took his time_. He would stop whenever she was about to cum, when she was so close she didn't imagine it was even possible to harness that wave and prevent it from crushing down; and his fierce intrusions turned into lazy licking. Sometimes he would even put her underwear back in place and crawl up to rest beside her for a while, calming her down with long strokes on her back and her chained arms.

She was exhausted by the sixth or seventh time this happened, and when he came up again she groped in the darkness until she found his bicep and squeezed it –"Please, Morgan." She begged, for all her self-respect was already out the window.

"Please what, my dear."

"Please fuck me." She didn’t' mind saying it. These words, if she ever needed to utter them, worked magic on men. But this bizarre and contradictory man only snorted in response –"You've already asked me for that." He traced her lips with his fingers.

"Okay, then now I'm _imploring_ you."

"Implore me more." Came the frustrating answer.

"I'll suck on your dick."

"Boring." Said he.

"Well, what do you expect me to do then?"

"Hard, isn't it?" he chuckled –"Pretty girls like you don't have to put much of an effort in the bedroom. I'll let you think about it with my tongue in your tunnel-" and with that he dove down again, but before he was able to shift her underwear out of the way, there was a knock on the door and both of them stilled.

"Are you expecting anyone?" she asked in a low gasp.

"No. Are _you_?"

She thought about it for a moment and was struck by horror when she realized that she actually was. Expecting LeGrande.

"Ohhh crap!" she cried in a half-whisper –"Oh shit shit shit shit shit! What time is it!?"

"Around seven."

"SHIT. Double shit. Fucking fuck, I'm so stupid! I have this thing to go to with Morgan. He probably called me a thousand times. FUCK. Untie me." There was a knock on the door again and LeGrande's voice came from behind it –"Tulip?"

The old weirdo was still holding down her legs –"You have this thing to go to with _Morgan_?"

"FUCK! No, of course not! Marc, I meant _Marc_. Gosh, please untie me, please please or it will turn into a shitstorm… _please_!"

"See? _Now_ you're imploring." Said Morgan smugly –"I'll take care of him."

"No! Please don't do this… Morgan, please-" she was almost in tears when she felt him leaving the bed –"Morgan, don't ruin my life. I'm begging you." She was fighting with her chains, but only managed to scratch herself.

"I thought you guys weren't exclusive." He replied, his voice was different again. It was the voice of the elderly man who lived with her.

"We aren't, but that doesn't mean you have to rub it in his face. Please Morgan, I'll do anything. Just let me go."

"After I see him. I promise." Said he –"Don't worry, I'll be a gentleman."

She found that hard to believe.

*

"Another angel?" offered Gabriel –"Who?"

"I am not quite certain." Answered Michael and walked back to the ledge with a frown on his face. He then opened his palm in the air, and before Lucifer knew what was happening he was drawn by a great force and smashed into Michael's fist. He spun in his grip and slithered between his brother's fingers, but was caught again by a current of air. Michael was sucking him into his mouth!

Panicking, Lucifer turned back into his usual form and landed on the ground like a stone when he tried to fly, for he had no wings. They were taken from him. He peered up at his brother with rancor and fury, but Michael slapped him generously on his face with a might that he didn't expect.

"You never tire of this, do you, brother dear?" he chided –"What else needs to transpire, I wonder, before you comprehend the gravity of your deeds. How much chaos and sorrow do you still plan to seed?"

"I have nothing to say to you." Answered Lucifer and got up gracefully on his feet. At least he had them still. When he glanced at Gabriel, he saw that the other angel was pretending not to be looking at the scene, due to his embarrassment. Lahash, who was also there, was curled like a hedgehog and weeping so badly that he was probably unaware of his surroundings.

"Nothing? No wise remarks? No theories of the stray and the straight?" stung Michael and his voice was harsh –"Perhaps what you've seen down there made you regret what you've caused. Perhaps it shook you even more than Abel's death by the hand of your own son."

Lucifer remained quiet. He did not wish to be dragged into a hollow argument with his condescending brother. His upcoming encounter with God should be bad enough.

"Tell me." Michael stepped forward and grabbed him by his hair –"What happened down there?"

"Nothing you'd ever be able to appreciate." Spat Lucifer, looking his brother directly in the eye.

"Very well." Said Michael –"God will extract it out of you anyhow. I merely wanted to give you a chance to repent, because father surely wouldn't. Not this time."

And thus he was taken to his father's chambers. He hasn't set foot in the place in a long time, and the sights and lights stirred up painful memories. Of when he once loved and had known love. Whatever nostalgic fragments that flooded his mind were blown off by God's rumbling wrath, for he was already yelling at Azza and Azazal.

"Giving them weapons! And paint, to dye their faces with! To be vain!"

"With all due respect, Father, you've equipped them with nothing when you sent them unto that rough terrain." Said Azazel coolly.

"And that is why you have _tainted_ yourselves by _sleeping_ with them?"

"Once again, father-" explained Azazel –"There are no women in the Silver-City and we were overwhelmed by our needs and we had to quench them."

"ANGELS HAVE NO NEEDS!" roared God and the entire place quaked. All the angels, including Michael and Gabriel fell to their knees unwillingly. Lucifer was seemingly the only lesser being in the room that wasn't scared. He had been through this plenty of times, and to be truly honest, it didn't impress him anymore all that much.

"Bring forth Satan." Ordered God, and Gabriel hurried to clamber to his feet and take Lucifer by his arm, but the latter shook him off immediately –"I can still _walk_." He barked at his brother who backed off and let him go.

"Satan?" whispered Aza and turned around, surprised to see Lucifer there –"What has he got to do with this?"

_"Everything."_ Replied Michael and hit Azza with a shot of lightening.

*


	30. Son of Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivy has a bad fight with her bf, and Lucifer gets Hell.

_"I woke up this mornin'  
Didn't recognize the man in the mirror  
Then I laughed, and I said, "Oh silly me, that's just me"  
Then I proceeded to brush some stranger's teeth  
But they were my teeth, and I was weightless  
Just quiverin' like some leaf come in the window of a restroom  
I couldn't tell you what the hell it was supposed to mean  
But it was a Monday, no a Tuesday, no Wednesday, Thursday, Friday  
Then Saturday came around, and I said  
"Who's this stupid clown blockin' the bathroom sink?"_

_Then I woke up one mornin'  
Didn't recognize the man in the mirror  
Then I laughed, and I said, "Oh silly me, that's just me"  
Then I proceeded to not comb some stranger's hair  
Never was my style…" ['Pretty Pimpin'', Kurt Vile] _

She would sometimes disappear for long periods. It was probably her way of punishing him for not being exclusive with her, and she sometimes wouldn't answer the phone on purpose. For the very same reasons. Usually the way to compensate her was showing up on her doorstep, therefore he did. He knocked on the door several times and even called out her name, but it was ten whole minutes before the door opened and on the threshold was the man she used to call 'Captain Weirdo' – her nutter of a roommate. And he was, as Marc was warned, wearing his boxers and a t-shirt only. Not looking respectable at all. However, being a refined and well-spoken man LeGrande wore a pleasant and completely fake smile and reached out his hand for a handshake –"A fine evening to you." He said –"Professor Marc LeGrande."

The other man looked at his hand and smiled back, but he didn't shake it. His grin was hollow and faint, yet his eyes had a certain viciousness to them. And to boot the weirdness of it all- he carried a heavy scent of _pineapple_. 

"You are…?" tried LeGrande again.

"Lou." Said the man laconically –"How can I help you."

"I am looking for Pamela." Said Marc, feeling uncomfortable now –"Miss Isley. Who lives in this cabin."

"What about her?"

"Erm… well. I am sorry to disturb you, but I believe she is in? I wanted to check on her, as she hasn't answered my phonecalls."

"When a girl doesn't answer your calls, you should get the hint." Said the looney professor. Marc frowned and put his hands in his pockets, thinking how to tackle this. The man obviously didn't want anyone invading his privacy. Pamela had told him all about the mad professor's habits and of his OCD. Perhaps it was better to take a more subtle approach…

"Your name's Morgan, right? I… well, when Pam told me that you were living together I've read some of your stuff. I found it intriguing."

"Did you." Said Morgan, still smiling, but there was this oddity in his pupils still. Must have been his insanity.

"Oh, oui. I mean. Bold stuff. A man of your… stature. Saying things like that. Well, it's brave, isn't it? So… can I come in? I'll take my shoes off, I promise. She's upset with me, for-"

"For?" asked Morgan before he was able to complete the sentence. Now he understood why Pamela despised him. Plus, he could have knocked him out with one fist to his jaw if he really wanted to. The man was as brittle as a dry leaf, and his glasses were crooked. This was ridiculous.

"Look. She is in there. I want to see her. I will go straight to her part of the cabin and won't bother you."

"Which part." Said Morgan.

"Excuse me?"

"Which is her part of the cabin?"

"You tell me." Said Marc, realizing now that Morgan was not just being annoying. It was personal. He was probably jealous like the rest of them. _Who wouldn't be?_ The few people who knew about their secret relationship were constantly, impatiently waiting for their demise. Nobody thought it was fair that he had won the heart of this ravishing young girl while still having a family on his own. But fuck them and fuck Morgan-

"What exactly do you do, Mr. LeGrande?"

"I practice organic chemistry." He blurted.

"You take the essence of plants and animals and you mess with it?" asked Morgan –" _Manipulate_ it? Mix it all together to create new substances? Is _that_ what you do?"

"It's for medicinal purposes." LeGrande found himself sounding defensive –"But yes, in general, that _is_ what I do."

"Interfering with the work of God." Said Morgan and hummed.

"I do not believe in God, monsieur, I believe in MAN. And I'd be more than happy to discuss this with you over a cup of coffee, but now I only wish to see my girlfriend."

"Girl-friend." Said Morgan, extending the two syllables, tasting them on his tongue, it seems. _Mocking_ him. To suggest that she was too young to be dating him, perhaps. He opened his mouth to reply, but then: -"She's in the shower. Let me go fetch her for you. You won't mind staying here, would you?" He couldn't shake the feeling Morgan was being hostile towards him –"I would not fancy you bringing any new germs into the house. I'm more than certain that as a professor of particles you can understand."

And with that Morgan slammed the door in his face. LeGrande had to wait there, out of sheer politeness, for what must have been another ten minutes. Then the door opened again and Pamela rushed outside wearing a slinky black dress, her hair wet and down, her face clean from makeup and her bag dangling in her hand. Her shoes on the other.

"Hey." She said coldly and gave him a peck on the lips. He stood there, spreading his hands in bitter astonishment as she put on her high heels and shot her a questioning look –"What the fuck, Tulip???"

"I lost track of time, sorry."

"Is that it??" he protested as she finished putting on her shoes and began striding in the direction of the main road –"That's all the explanation I get?" he called, eyeing her luscious behinds swagger in the tight fabric as she walked –"I called you maybe ten times!"

"My phone was on silent mode."

"Hey, listen." He said, running after her and grabbing her hand –"Stop, okay? Just stop. You're mad with me. I understand."

"We're gonna be late, Marc." Said she –"Let's go see the show and save the talking for later, alright?"

He nodded solemnly. –"Alright." He agreed, with some difficulty, because his insides were coiling in resentment, and he did not know if he was able to bottle it up for the rest of their date.

Then thinking about it, the evening was ruined already. He ordered the tickets for the opera and made reservations at the restaurant; but he knew now that none of it was going to be as fun as he had intended. Well, half of the time spent with this girl wasn't fun anyways. What's another evening? He shrugged and put his arm around her, walking her to the cab that was waiting for them and opening the door for her. She took a seat inside without saying a word and pulled out a mirror out of her bag, fixing her hair and earrings as they rode.

"It's a classic. 'Carmen'." He said, because someone had to say something to break that awkward silence.

"Mmhmm." Said she and held his hand, but it meant nothing.

"It's about this beautiful and rebellious gypsy girl who breaks the hearts of all the men around her."

"Okay." Said Pamela and looked out the window, just like she did on their first ride together, on that trip, when she was forced to sit next to him. But while back then you could cut the sexual tension between them with a knife, right now it seems nothing but vague and illusive. Her mind and body were both somewhere else.

"She ends up being killed by her jealous lover." He concluded. As expected, Pamela turned her head sharply towards him and her bright green eyes fired at him with disbelief –"Did you just spoil it for me, Marc?"

"I was only trying to get your attention."

"You have my attention, Marc. You have way too much of it."

"You say you don't wish to talk about it now and then you taunt me, to make me lash out at you; which I will do if you keep it up. So be warned, Tulip." His voice turned into a dangerous whisper –"I might say and do ugly things to you." His chest heaved out of its own volition and he noted the subtle changes in her features. That was his Tulip who loved it when he was mean. His Tulip who stayed with him during all these years because he was never truly hers, and not because the very little that he's given her.

"How ugly?" she couldn't resist asking, and he would have smile to that, only he was too upset at the moment. Something about the entire situation suggested that she didn't deliberately ignored his calls. She had honestly _forgotten_ about their date, and that was unlike her. His ego was battered. Injured.

"Uglier than usual." He answered cruelly and thought about all the toxins he's been injecting her lately, without her knowing so. She was surely going to get a special dosage tonight.

*

She was quiet throughout the three hours of the opera. Whenever he glanced to his left he saw that she was allegedly concentrated in the plot and music; but he knew her well and could tell that she was fabricating it. At the final scene, when Carmen got stabbed in the chest by her lover, Pamela turned her head and gave him a criticizing stare –"You did spoil if for me, Marc."

"My apologies." He replied –"But she was just juggling so many hearts, what did she expect? She had it coming."

"Indeed." Said his lover and got out of her seat before the curtain's call even begun. He had to follow. Now was their time to fight.

"You can speak now. I'm listening." Said he breathlessly, trying to keep up with her fast pace as they made their way out of the hall and towards the restaurant.

It was drizzling and she didn't have a coat, he offered her his when he caught up with her at the crosswalk that had a red light- but she's turned it down. That girl was dragging him behind her with his tongue out, and he fancied her for that.

"I've already told you. Four days is a long time for you to be gone, when we said we were gonna spend this semester together."

"You didn't really expect me to be away from my wife and kids for six whole months straight." He slammed the words at her, stressing 'wife' and 'kids'. "I am a family man."

"Some family man." She said disrespectfully as the light turned green and he had to run after her once more. There was a long line at the entrance to 'The Pearl' – which was his pick of a fancy restaurant that served posh vegetarian and vegan food dishes. He really thought she'd be happy, but right now there was no chance of making her happy.

"What are we meant to do??" said she, pointing at the line and crossing her arms under her breasts. The drizzle made her look like a drenched cat.

"Let me." He said impatiently, but turned elegant as he writhed his way through the crowd and found a host, telling her to search for the name 'Isley' on her list.

"You had the reservations under _my_ name?" said Pamela, madder than before –"Boy, are you disgusting. Did you think that Scotland and France were too close? Did you fear that someone might see the name 'LeGrande' and figure out that you're cheating on your wife? You'd land in Paris tomorrow morning and she'll be waiting for you with a newspaper article that has your name smeared on it with a picture of us and the title 'was seen with a mysterious redhead', because you're so fucking _famous_?! Newsflash, LeGrande: You're _not_ famous! Nobody gives a shit if you're cheating on Jeanette, with me! Nobody cares! You know what, I don't think even SHE cares anymore! So there's no need to _humiliate_ me by being so fucking discreet when we're having a night out!"

The combination of hormones and toxins he's been injecting her with had a part in her breakdown. They did that to her. He knew that for certain; and yet here she was, shouting and yelling in the middle of a main street for everyone to hear and see, in front of a big crowd of some 100 people waiting to have their dinner at that fancy restaurant. They all looked at them, and those who didn't look were only pretending not to be interested. If he went inside with her now, they would all be googling the name 'LeGrande' and staring at them the whole time. Plus the two of them weren't hungry anymore, at least not for food.

"Fuck you, Marc!" was the ending line of her speech, and then he grabbed her by the hand and dragged her into a darkened alleyway. She was the one forced to run behind him now, and lost one of her shoes on the way. She did scream and fight him, but at that point he didn't care for it. He slammed her against a brick wall, inside a puddle of dirty rainwater –"You want ugly??" he growled, removing his belt –" ** _Here is my ugly, you brat._** "

*

Lucifer stood there, prepared for anything. He was half bored, at first. But the big orb of light that was God shone so brightly that he had to squint his eyes and he did feel his heart beating rapidly.

"I believe you did this," said his father in a surprisingly placid tone –"because you seek the responsibilities I took from you once more. You wish to be in charge of something."

Lucifer gritted his teeth and said nothing, sensing there was a trap there. God would never grant him his former position. This was him playing with his mind.

"I will give you responsibilities." Said God and his words echoed through the hall and made all the angels tremble.

"NO!" cried Michael –"Father dearest, My LORD, this angel had **_whored_** , he had incited, sinned and defiled. He had ruined and _murdered_! He had ignored your divine order time and time again, he had tainted the souls of others, he had broken sacred oaths, and his wreckage is beyond repair!"

"Thank you for that summary." Said Lucifer to Michael.

"And this is why I shall grant him a kingdom of his own." Said God calmly –"To reign over, to destroy, to demolish. Some place where he could binge on pain and thrive on the remains of humanity and divinity, the leftovers, the damned and the ungrateful. Whatever is broken shall be assigned to him. Whatever is dysfunctional and corrupted shall be thrown down to his fiery pit, to rot in there for all eternity."

Digesting this, Lucifer still didn't speak. This was not a prize, but another punishment. The smugness in God's voice had told him the truth behind this maneuver. Father was going to get rid of him. Forever and ever. This was unkinder than uncreating him. He was going to toss him to a cellar and lock him down there. For all eternity.

"NO!" this time, it was Azazel who cried out in protest, for he was clever enough to read between the lines and infer that he was going to share Lucifer's fate. –"Father, will you not give us the chance to repent? Father, PLEASE-"

"Father." It was Gabriel who spoke this time –"Why not simply annihilate all of them?"

"Because." Said God patiently –"I have come to comprehend that there is a place for Evil in this universe. Whatever I do, whatever I make that is pretty and innocent, generates a mirror image that is the exact opposite. For as long as I create, this side-effect would keep on manifesting. This is the nature of creation. Its… character, if you will." There was a hint of sorrow in his voice now, and Lucifer felt like he was going to cry, but he refused to.

"And so," continued God –"I have made a place for all shadows deep in the belly of the Earth. A residence for these…. Side-effects. And they shall dwell there, and Lucifer will rule over them, because he had always wanted to be a king."

"This is a most terrible announcement, Father dear." Muttered Michael, and he too, was tearing up.

"The place shall be called 'HELL'." Said God, -"The black mirror of Heaven. One who is condemned there shall never leave again."

"God bless." Said Gabriel –"we wouldn't want these abominations to walk among us again."

"And as for you, my other sinful sons-" said God to Aza and Azazel –"Yourselves, and the rest of your brothers who contaminated the women of Earth with their seeds, will change accordingly. Come and walk to the Walls of Truth. See what you have become."

While Azazel walked proudly and stood in front of the godly mirror, Aza was still weeping and needed assistance to get to his feet. It was Michael who manhandled him towards the mirror and held him there, so that he doesn't run away.

As the two sordid angels looked upon their reflections, their appearance was changing for the worse. Azazel developed a hunch and one of his leg shortened. He grew fur, like a beast, and a pair of hideous horns. His mouth hung limply now, as though he could not close it, and it was drooling all over his chin. No trace of his former beauty could be detected in his new and monstrous shape. Aza turned into a creature that was no less appalling. Michael and Gabriel gasped in horror, but Lucifer only measured the scene with an impassive gaze. This was dirty trickery, and it was pathetic. God obviously wanted to separate good from evil by making the two easy to spot on sight, but reality wasn't that dichotomic. It was way more complicated than that.

"And as for your children-" continued God while Aza was howling in agony and Azazel was using every curse word that he knew, spitting them at his still angelic brothers –"I will send a squad of angels to destroy them. Them, and the women who bore them."

"NOOJKDJKDJ!!!" yelled Aza, who was now a crimson blob with tentacles and a thousand liquid eyes. His voice sounded like a screech, and it was incoherent. He shuttered the mirror in front of him with one of his flying limbs and screeched again – his mouth – a gaping cave that reeked of death and disease.

"Change him too!" cried Michael, gesturing with his chin towards Lucifer while he was trying to control Aza, holding him by his golden manacles.

"No." said God decisively –"Satan was the most beautiful creature I ever created, and he shall remain that way. He shall stand as a beacon of hopelessness to the stray and the mindless. His beauty shall be his curse. His attractiveness shall be his burden. And he will never sire any children, although his penis shall torment him. And he shall never find joy in the union of bodies, although he may wish to do nothing else. _That_ shall be his punishment."

"It seems merciful, considering." Commented Michael and kicked Aza in his groin.

"Do you question me, my son?" challenged God.

"No, father. I just want what is fair."

"He will suffer." Promised God and finally turned to Lucifer –"What say you before we part forever, Son-of-Morning?"

_"Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven."_ Spat Lucifer.

*


	31. The Hanged Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pamela learns the truth about her messed-up life.

_"Back to the cold restless streets at night  
I talk to myself about tomorrow night  
Walls of white protest  
The gravestone in name  
Who is it now  
It's always the same_

_Who is it now  
Who calls me inside  
Are the leaves on the trees  
Just living disguise  
I walk sweet rain tragicomedy  
I'll walk home again  
To the street melody…" **['Shadows and Tall Trees', U2]** _

When she saw him taking off his belt Pamela felt a chill of tension running down her spine and her mouth went dry. She was cold and wet and upset, and didn't think that sex play was going to do her any good. The scent of breakup was thick in the air, and what they both needed in order to unwind was a talk, and not _this_. She flashed her eyes at LeGrande –"Don't you dare." She warned him through gritted teeth.

"I believe you've soared a bit too high, Tulip. You need some grounding." He took the leather belt in one hand, but as he brushed her hair away from her neck with the other, his foxlike face turned as pale as chalk. –"Where did you get that bite mark?"

"It isn't a bite-mark, Marc."

"It's a row of thin lines in the shape of an arc." Said LeGrande and touched the wound carefully. She completely forgot about that bite, but under his inspection the blunt pain came to life and she winced –"Who did that to you, Tulip?" the marvel in his tone overshadowed his jealousy; although, knowing him, she could tell it was also there.

"It doesn't matter." Said Pamela and eyed the belt that hung limply in his hand –"It was just a fling."

"I didn't realize your 'flings' could get so…"

"Ugly?" tried Pamela, laughing dryly –"Neither did I. And there are other things I came to realize today. In addition to the fact that you're ashamed of me." She was still furiously mad with him, but at the side of that his closeness, as always, stirred her senses and filled her with heat against her better judgement. Even that belt he was threatening her with seemed to spark up passion rather than fear.

"And what are those insights, Tulip?" he said, panting, and finally wrapped the belt around her throat and pulled the edge through the buckle –"That you best be kept on a leash?"

Power games were not a new concept between the two of them, and Marc would use all sorts of devices to spice things up in the bedroom, to compensate for his lack of erection. However, they'd never done it on the street and now was not the right moment to start.

"No." said she coldly –"I've realized that I may love you, but I don't like you one bit, LeGrande."

"That is a sad development." He replied and tightened the belt –"We should really discuss it when I am back from France. But right now you're clearly in need of a fix." And he pulled a syringe out of the pocket of his raincoat.

"Christ, Marc!" she cried, but the noises of the city swallowed the loudness of her voice –"I refuse to take part in this experiment of yours anymore. I'm out."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Tulip." He said and flicked the syringe with his fingers, to give the fluids inside a good toss –"If you stop taking it at this point, you'll die."

"What?!" Pamela felt as though cold fingers squeezed her heart until it leapt into her throat and fluttered there, like a fish out of water, under the pressure of the belt. "What did you say?" she repeated, unbelieving, but her voice came out hoarse, now, unrecognizable and choked up- and not for the belt. –"Did you just say…"

She knew he told her the truth, if only due to the self-satisfied twinkle in his eye. And then he leaned forward, taking advantage of her shock and aligning the syringe with her neck –"Don't even need to puncture the skin. Your mysterious lover finished half the job for me." And he pushed the needle into the bite mark and filled it with whatever poison in less than a second, wiping the remains with the edge of his sleeve. She was so petrified and overwhelmed that it didn't even hurt, and no sound but a poor 'ugh' left her lips as he did his business. Then he released the belt and pulled it back from over her neck.

"What have you been giving me, Marc?" she whispered and stared wide eyed at his face.

_"It doesn't matter."_ He said angrily –"Just like the identity of your secret lover. The only thing that matters is that your body is now hooked on it. I've been increasing the dosage daily, and now your body needs it in order to survive."

"Daily?" Pamela was squinting her eyebrows –"You haven't bee- - - oh, _stupid me_."

"No, not stupid." Reassured Marc as vague memories began flowing back to her one after the other. Of him kissing her neck, way more than was necessary –"Just in love."

"Some sort of natural anesthetic on your tongue?" she guessed, her horror varying slightly and becoming painted with professional interest –"something to prevent me from feeling the sting when the needle went it?"

"Exactly. A brilliant student that you are, Tulip."

  
"But… _why_?" she wondered as he folded the belt and placed it in one of his pockets –"Why would you do this to me? Do you want me dead?"

"God forbid." Said LeGrande –"Tulip!" he placed one palm against her cheek –"I want you to _bloom_. I want you to _shine_. To be the most beautiful flower in the garden."

"But you just said-"

"I only said that you won't survive without them _at this point_. This is all temporary, Tulip." He grabbed her face with both his hands, excited -"If my theory is correct, and it usually is, then your body will start producing these pheromones on its own in a few weeks. We shall pump your blood with it to the maximum level, the maximum amount you could handle, and then gradually lower the dosage. Your body will experience… a slight distress-" he kissed her shortly –"but it is, after all, a young and fit body." He caressed one of her breasts –"and it will adjust and fill in the growing gaps by making its own pheromones in its organic little lab." One of his hands reached between her legs and stroked her there. Pamela closed her eyes momentarily and swallowed, trying to take in all this new information. She couldn't believe that he had tricked her that way. The person who was the closest to her.

"So no, I am not trying to kill you, Tulip. Do you not remember our plan?"

She felt nauseous. The smog and the drizzle seemed to twist and blur and make everything surreal. The trees on the street seemed to draw closer, and to bend towards them.

"I thought it was an innocent experiment." She muttered –"To see if a person could draw other people by using organic pheromones, I didn't think-"

"Tulip!" LeGrande giggled –"But it _does_ work, can't you see? We're going to change the world, and the next Noble prize will be ours!"

"Won't it be just yours, for coming up with the formula?" she said bitterly –"My part in it was passive, and it was done without my consent. You have endangered me. You are endangering me as we speak. And the worst part, is that you don't even give a shit."

And with that her nausea grew, and the nearest tree bent so much until it touched the pavement. She pushed Marc away from her –"I need to puke-" she said and he stepped backwards to these words. There was a hint of fear in his eyes as she held her stomach and belched; but she knew that he wasn't worried about her. Wasn’t worried for her safety or health. LeGrande only feared for the welfare of the evil seed he had planted in her. If she were to die, his enterprise would go to waste.

And then the tree in the background bent even further, and now, as she was coughing away the remains of the transparent fluids (for she hasn't eaten at all today)- it coiled its branch around LeGrande's ankle, and before he noticed the tree bounced upwards again and the Professor cried out in terror and surprise. Pamela hoisted her head in dizziness and saw that he was hanging upside down by his foot and flailing his arms about.

"Marc!" she called out as the tree swung him from side to side. The pockets of his raincoat emptied, spilling his belt, his phone, his wallet and a couple of still full syringes unto the pavement. She first hurried, out of instinct, to try and grab his stretched-out hand; but the tree seemed to swing him out of her reach on purpose! After chasing the dancing puppet that was LeGrande a couple of times from one side to the other, she figured there was no use and called out for help instead. Marc joined her call in a voice that was on the verge of hysteria, adding from time to time –"Get me the fuck down, Tulip!"

"I don't know how to!" she replied snappishly.

"Climb it and cut the branch that caught me!"

"With _what_ exactly?!" she yelled back.

"I don't care!"

"Maybe I should go back to the main street instead and find someone who c-"

"ISLEY GET ON THAT TREE!"

"Fine!" she spat and removed her only remaining shoe, then she approached the trunk at the point where the branches were the lowest, but the tree veered one of its heavier limbs and knocked her over with an unforeseen momentum. She was thrown into the puddle of muck where she previously stood, swearing. "I don't think it wants me to come near you." She said gingerly, to not fan his fury. His face was already as red as a ripe tomato, and all of these motions made him lose his glasses in addition to the rest of his possessions.

"Okay," he growled –"OKAY. Go to the street. But don't leave me, Pamela, or I swear I'll-" he had nothing left to threaten her with. Not at his state. And so he trailed off and grunted while attempting to fold upwards and grab his own shins. –"GO!" he repeated and she shook off her transfixed gaze and clambered to he dirty feet, running back to the main street and screaming for help.

Most of the people she encountered on the way ignored her, for she probably seemed like a homeless lost-case. However, back at the fancy restaurant the host recognized her from before (who could forget such a scene) and offered her assistance, believing that she'd been attacked by her partner. It took Pamela some time to convince her that Marc was the one who'd been attacked. Escorted by the host and three massive men who leapt on the opportunity to take their part in a 'damsel in distress' episode, Pamela led the way back to the alley where she'd left LeGrande and hoped he'd still be there, and suffering, because she knew her story sounded absurd and she'd had enough embarrassment for one night.

The gasp coming from the host who followed right behind her confirmed that she wasn't imagining things. She stopped and blinked behind her glasses to see that LeGrande was still suspended in mid-air, thrashing about like a rabbit in a snare and almost sobbing in agony –"God, please help! HELP ME!".

"Jesus Christ!" peeped the girl –"Who would do such a horrible thing?" and she took Pamela's hand for support, but who was supporting who was unclear. The men were way more practical. Two of them rushed towards the tree and began climbing it relentlessly. It was obvious that they saw this as a challenge and were already envisioning their names in tomorrow's headlines. _There_. Thought Pamela. _He got the publicity he was both craving for and afraid of_. Good for him.

The third man swooped in fast under the flying branches to collect LeGrande's belongings and unloads them unto Pamela's hands. –"Your father's stuff." He said heroically and she smirked back at him, a sour taste in her mouth due to the vomit from before. _Her father_. Hmmph.

And then, whilst all of these strangers were engaged in rescuing LeGrande, she had a moment of clarity. The girl next to her was yelling out enthusiastic orders to the men on the mission, and Pamela seized the moment to open LeGrande's wallet and take out a couple of bills. He owed her the cab home, at the very least. Then she concealed all the syringes in her handbag and turned to the host –"Hey." She said –"I think my blubber is beginning to drip. Must be all this ordeal, you know?"

"Oh, of course! Do you need to use a restroom? You can use the one in the restaurant." Offered her quasi friend.

"Thanks. I appreciate it." Said Pamela, faking relief.

"Here. Take my nametag to enter."

And with that Pamela left the rest of LeGrande's things with the host, and left the alleyway to catch a taxi for herself on the main road.

*

Lucifer wasn't asleep, although the time was well after 1:00 AM. He was sitting at Morgan's desk and observing a pack of cards he had found in one of the drawers. Back in Hell, the condemned humans used to play cards all the time, and they used to gamble and kill each other over these high stakes' games. However, _these_ cards were different. Firstly, they were much larger than the regular ones, and he wondered how one could shuffle them. Secondly, they didn't have symbols on them, but gorgeous and eye-catching paintings instead. A golden cup dripping with water. Four men carrying staves decorated with flowers. A beautiful woman holding open the mouth of a submissive lion.

Some of the images seemed familiar in an uncanny way, as if the cards were drenched in witchcraft. Something ancient and unholy. Like the rituals the humans performed on Earth when the angels came down to visit them. And thirdly, these cards were old and over-used. They were soft and faded and rippled at the edges. Morgan must have used them all the time.

But for what reason?

The door opened abruptly, and Pamela went into the cabin. Lucifer only raised his head for a fraction of a second, saw that she wasn't with her boyfriend and returned to look closely at the cards. There were 78 of them and he had most of them laid out on the table, trying to find sense and order to their baffling nature. He was so wrapped up in the investigation, that he didn't mind when she hadn't greeted him and went straight into the shower. Poor girl had a rough night. First he didn't give her any, and then her boyfriend didn't give her any, because he didn't have any to give. _Nice. Perhaps next time she will beg him properly. He'd like that. To gaze down at her pleading eyes._

But as enticing as the thought was, the cards had most of his attention at the moment. There was a series of staves, a series of cups and a series of coins. All of them looked fairly innocent, but the series of swords was menacing and ominous. In the pictures, people were impaled and stabbed by these swords. One of them had a person lying in bed with swords sticking out from every part of his dead body, hilts pointing upwards, blades deep in the flesh. What was this all about?

"Morgan?" carried on gentle airwaves, her melodic voice swirled into his ears. He raised his head again to see her standing by the stairwell and leaning on the banister. She wore a pair of black pajama trousers and a white tank top with no bra underneath. Her wet hair was dripping into the fabric and making it see-through. Morgan's dick fidgeted.

"Yes?" said Lucifer, as if nothing ever happened between them and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"What are you up to?"

"What am I up to?" he repeated and glanced at her swiftly –"Not crying my eyes out."

She blushed –"How can you tell I've been crying?"

"You reek of it." Said he.

"Well… well, I can't sleep."

"Considering the fact you didn’t try to go to sleep, I do not know how you can come out with such a statement." He said dryly.

"I just know I can't." said she –"Can I sit with you for a little while? Please?"

_Oooh, there it was. She had respect for him now._

"Only if you can tell me what these cards mean." Said he and leaned back into his rolling chair –"I'm certain that they have a-"

"These?" giggled Pamela –"I mean, I know you're in constant search of the truth, but these are used for parlor tricks and bachelorette parties. It's just stupid harmless fun." She moved closer, uninvited, and her scent was intoxicating. It was stronger than before and it made him gape like a fish. Luckily for him, his confusion regarding the cards was a good enough excuse to camouflage his genuine helplessness –"Explain." He demanded.

"Well, they are Tarot cards." Said she –"Used for divination. You know, fortune telling? Want me to read your fortune for you?" she offered, amused.

"Do you know how to do it?"

"Ermm… no." she admitted –"But the internet does. All you have to do is shuffle them and think of what you'd like to know, then when you take out a card, we can search the results and come up with the interpretation. Easy."

"Alright." Said Lucifer and eyed her round breasts, feeling their texture under the pads of his fingers again, and almost giving himself to that fresh memory –"Sit down." It felt good to give her a command. It felt good to see her obeying, and while he was turning the cards over and piling them in his hand, he peered at her behind the desk. Something bad happened tonight, something sinister. He'll get to the bottom of it later.

"So where did you get these Tarot cards?"

"One of my late wife's boxes." He replied right away, knowing that she wouldn't snoop any further when it came to "his" personal tragedy –"Didn't have the guts to open it until tonight, since she died."

"Oh." Said Pamela sympathetically –"Yeah, it makes sense. It's usually females who use them… so, are you ready to ask a question?"

"Aye." Answered Lucifer –"What is causing the electricity problems in this cabin?"

"No, silly!" laughed Pamela –"It needs to be private. Ask it secretly, in your heart."

"What if I don't have one?" flirted Lucifer.

"A question or a heart?"

At that moment he wanted to kiss her. He wished to lunge over the desk, to take her by her shoulders, rip away her clothes and slide his dragon into her cave; he willed to have her on all fours, to pull her head back by her ginger hair; have her shedding tears for himself, the Demon-Lord. Not for her idiot of a boyfriend. And this would be just the appetizer, of course. Later on, he would-

"A heart." He said. This was Morgan talking. The sensitive old man was protesting against having Lucifer wearing his shell.

"Noooo, Morgan!" crooned Pamela –"You have a heart. It's just black." She laughed. –"Ask the question again, okay? But make it a different one."

"No." said Lucifer –"I want you to do it."

"Pphhft!" snorted Pamela –"No worries. Hand me the cards."

Lucifer passed her the pack, and when he did, their hands touched. He hadn't felt her hands by now, but they were silky smooth and cool. He closed his eyes for a second, imagining one of her palms cradling his dragon.

"Okay, so," she snapped him back to reality and placed one card upside down on the desk between them. It said 'The Devil' and portrayed a hideous creature, half-goat, half-man. Lucifer swallowed as she called out cheerfully –"Oooh, Satan!" she shook her shoulders with fake excitement –"Do you reckon I'm in trouble?"

"I'm quite positive that you are." He said grimly. 

He thought she'd take it as a joke, but to his surprise Isley turned pale and sweaty and she pushed her hair back nervously. On her ivory neck was his bite-mark, blue and purple. Something to be proud of, but beneath it was another dark evidence. Made by a rope, or a strap. His jaw tightened at that.

"Let's see what the internet says, shall we?" trying to keep her tone casual, she clicked a few buttons on the phone she took out of her pocket –"Hmm… something about 'raw passion' and following animal instincts. Well… we know that to be true, don't we?" she giggled dryly –"Told you it was stupid. Next card?"

"Okay." Said Lucifer, still mesmerized by the previous card. Was that who people thought the devil was? God had promised him he will keep his fine appearance, his angel form. But perhaps humans could see past that, _with their souls_.

"Here goes-" said Pamela and took out a second card from the pack. She turned it over on the desk. It said 'The Hanged Man' and had a picture of a man hanging upside down from a tree by one of his feet. And then she shrieked in horror. Lucifer startled in his seat, because such were Morgan's reactions.

"What happened?" he asked, alarmed.

"I… I saw a cockroach! Right over there!" she pointed at the kitchen corner and then, out of the blue, burst into tears. Lucifer sighed and got out of his seat. He walked around the table and stood next to her, taken over by her miraculous smell.

"This isn't about a bug, is it?" he asked, not expecting an answer. Then he struggled with Morgan's personality for a few moments more before uttering –"Do you require a distraction?"

"Yes, please." She wept.

"Bear in mind," he said while resting his hand on her head, feeling her tremble –" That though I _do_ understand; I won't stop if you hurt, I won't stop if you cry, I won't stop if you tell me to stop, I won't stop if you lose consciousness and basically, I won't stop until I'm satisfied. Is that alright?"

"It's fine." Sniffed Pamela –"It's fine."

Lucifer closed his eyes and cherished her honest reply.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So proud of this one. Hope you enjoy it too.


	32. Where the Weeds Take Root

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isley and Lucifer are having an S&M scene. Sort of.

_"Sleeplessly embracing  
Butterflies and needles  
Line my seamed-up join  
Encased in case I need it  
In my stomach, for my heart  
Chain mail_

_Hunger of the pine_

_Plenty more tears in the sea  
And so you finally use it  
Bedding with me you see at night  
Your heart wears knight armour_

_Hunger of the pine  
(I'm a female rebel)…" _

_[Alt J, 'Hunger of the Pine']_

Whilst he was fueled and fuming with enough passion to make a volcano erupt, he still had to improvise the technicalities of the scene. As he laid her on her own bed that was still tousled from their earlier shenanigans, numerous ideas of what to do with her stormed upon his consciousness in a compelling frenzy- but he was lacking the instruments that would allow him to put most of them into practice. And that forced him to pause and think.

"Morgan-" whispered Pamela from below.

"Take your clothes off." He responded in Satan's voice, knowing that he was to her nothing but a shadow in the blackness –"And then get on all fours, turn around and face the wall."

"Alright, Captain-"

"And while you're at it-" he added while scanning the room with his night vision –"Tell me about that bruise around your neck."

"What bruise?"

Lucifer wanted to reward that illusive response with a slap to the face, but he still had enough self-control at that point, so he settled for leaning down and grabbing her by the throat –"If you don't give me straight answers we'll have to go back to the beginning and establish mutual understanding; but I believe we're past that point, are we not?"

"Aye." She replied. Mocking him- not the greatest of ideas. He responded by tearing off her tank top with his free hand, exposing her gorgeous breasts. A whiff of her scent hit his nostrils with almost the same amount of violence he'd used to rip the shirt. And once more, it was impossible to bear.

"I gather I've been incredibly gentle with you." He noted, as though to himself –"And you've turned into a wildflower- which has done you no good. See, sometimes it's cruel to be kind- and sometimes"- he ducked abruptly and bit down hard on her nipple, causing her to yelp and wriggle in his grip –"it's kind to be cruel." He finished. Isley looked upwards with admonishment and it was a whole heartbeat before he reached to pick her glasses from her face, worrying that she might recognize his angel form. He then stepped away from the bed –"Now do as you're told."

Whilst he stepped over to the desk and placed the glasses there, he heard a rustle of clothes from behind and smiled secretly to himself, to know she was complying.

"LeGrande gave it to me." She muttered lowly.

"Gave you what?"

"The bruise, obviously."

"Ah, you see the problem now? I've lost track of our conversation due to your cheekiness."

"I just didn't want to talk about it." She tried to explain, perhaps.

"We're not here to do what you want." He said simply, picking up items he had found on her desk and examining them. There were some books there- irrelevant; and some bottles and tubes containing lab experiments or cosmetics or both. He uncapped them one by one and sniffed them carefully, in search of a substance he'd fancy the smell of. –"So why did he do it?"

"Because he's an asshole."

"No argument there." Answered Lucifer and squeezed a creamy drop out of a tube unto his finger, rubbing it with the pad of his thumb to get a feel of the substance. It was oily and smelled of roses. He was half-content about it. That should help in concealing some of her natural scent. –"How did he do it? Not with his hand, I presume."

"With his belt." Answered Isley in a choked voice.

"Ah." Lucifer turned and was almost surprised to see her bum raw and naked and glowing in the faint light. White and luscious above two round, full thighs. She did not lean forward, nor was she supporting herself with her thighs. Her back was straight and stretched, save for its natural curve and her hair was resting on her left shoulder- revealing her spine, neck and skin entirely. Even in that position she seemed proud somehow. Like a noble filly waiting to be ridden by her master. _Oh, he liked that idea._

As he approached her with the tube of cream in his hand, he heard her sucking in a shivery breath and grinned in the darkness. –"What frightens you, my dear?" his voice slithered through almost closed lips. He stood over her and held the tube above her back, then without waiting for her reply squeezed it thoroughly until most of the lotion landed between her shoulder-blades in a big wobbly pile. Isley screamed but stood her ground albeit another chill that shook her, visible to his yellowy eyes. His vision was even sharp enough to detect the tiny hairs that stood up all over her curvy body and his cock stood up in the Professor's pants in accordance. Still grinning, Lucifer did a half-circle around the bed before crawling into it. He then mounted her legs and sat on her calves and ankles –"Don't move, or I will have to tie you." He warned casually before placing the tube on the bed to his side, reaching into the mount of lotion and beginning to spread it evenly on her back. Once again, his long strokes were automatic and indelicate, impersonal. Like a child smearing paint on wet paper with two open, careless palms.

-"It's cold." Commented Isley in a tone that was only half-complaining.

"I am well aware of that fact." He answered and started rubbing the cream down her arms and into her armpits- where her scent was most distinct- then down her elbows and her wrists, picking up each of her hands at a time and coating it with the oily substance as much as possible.

"This hand cream cost me a fortune" _now, this was surely a complaint_ –"It's organic, you know? For some reason the natural stuff costs much more than the chemical-OUCH!" she cried out when he pulled her head back by her hair and spoke lowly into her ear –"You have given your consent to this, Honeybee." He said derisively –"Therefore you WILL take everything I give you, without reservation. And if I were you, I would mind the things I say, because I aim to punish you for each and every grievance, as well as for your behavior."

"Yikes." Blurted the redhead.

"What was that?" He was used to servants and unquestioning followers. But she was talking back, and moreover- used a foreign language when she did. –"What was that?" he asked again, more curious than angry.

"Nothing."

From her arms Lucifer continued to her neck, pressing his fingers deep into the plush flesh without tenderness and noting how galled was the area and dotted with tiny puncture wounds.

"What has he been injecting you with?" he offered casually.

"Poison." Isley was quick to answer this time –"To make me super-human."

"Hmm." Muttered Satan as he engaged in taunting the wounds and chafing marks, relishing the little uncomfortable moans the action had provoked. –"So you were his little plaything? To run experiments on?"

"Not exactly- AW!-" she almost raised her hand to stop him from prodding a bruise, but relented at the last second. Lucifer froze with his grip around her throat –"I am giving you the option once more: Do you need to be tied down?"

"Nah, 'is alright." Returned Isley. He had to be more careful. She was not fully under yet, and taking it too far at this point might result in a fit of panic that he wouldn't favor. He let go of her neck and moved on to her back and the sides of her body. He was brushing her boobs with each motion, but never stalled to grant them any attention otherwise. However, when he reached her hips he held unto them tightly, applying a fair amount of pressure as he rubbed the lotion in attentively- for he was picturing himself entering her pink cavern and could not resist at least getting a glimpse of what it would be like.

By and by he felt she was becoming more relaxed and her head dropped minutely. She moaned quietly to the rhythm of his strokes and only fell silent when he took a recess in which he picked up the tube once again and uncapped it. As it was almost empty, the lotion made a squeaky sound as Lucifer squeezed whatever was left of it into his hand, then placed the drained tube on the small of her back, as though she was a table or a stand. Another shiver made her fidget and she never noticed when he adjusted his position before thrusting two fingers covered in cream into her garden. Isley squealed and instinctively tried to dodge the touch that ruptured her.

"Stay still." Warned the Lord of Hell –"For if you drop the tube, you'd leave me no choice but to punish you for your carelessness as well."

Isley moaned again and stilled. She was hot inside, like a fresh kill still throbbing as you skinned it; and she was wet. Slippery to begin with, and growing moister as he pushed her boundaries wider. There was almost no need for more oiling, but he knew he wanted her as open as possible for what he had in mind. Two fingers turned into three, and her sighs deeper and greedier. However, when he attempted to insert a fourth finger – his smallest one- he encountered some resistance; and believed he had reached the limit of her shape, that would not relent. Unwilling to give up and knowing that the narrow hallway he was manipulating was built to let a baby pass through at some point, he persisted stretching and kneading her insides, like a potter working on a stubborn piece of clay. He was thinking about his father and how he'd created the first man from earth. He was thinking about the loving manner in which God shaped and moulded the mud, and of how he caressed the mesh of the newly formed muscles, the perfect proportions of the torso and the arc of the calf. He was getting slightly frustrated and his motions became harsher and quicker, fiercer.

It was at that point that Isley cried out for the first time. It was a cry of pain and it snapped him back into the here and now; and he pulled out his hand unexpectedly and disrespectfully. Isley twitched so in response that the tube of lotion rolled off her back and landed on the mattress with a soft thump.

"Did I drop it?" she whispered anxiously.

"I believe you did, Flower." Answered the Demon-Lord and picked up the tube, turning it slowly in his hand before a vicious idea sparked in his sinister mind and made him smirk. He pressed the tube to her entrance, cap forward. It was round and as big as a medallion- not the most ideal of designs to maneuver into her tunnel- but then the challenge was in itself intriguing, and he wondered how much intransigence he'd have to push through.

"Wait- no- " muttered Isley and he halted for a second, making up his mind to not prolong his move and get dragged into a negotiation, he thrusted the tube forcefully into her and held her in place as her shriek pierced the darkness.

"Shhh." He whistled with his tongue curled upwards behind his teeth, and as her shriek turned into a serious of hoarse howls, he knew that the initial pain was receding. He lodged the tube deeper until it was secured inside her, and ignored her sounds of distress as he did.

"Breathe." He ordered –"I've only just begun."

Her answer was an intelligible train of broken words, swimming in something like sobbing.

"I am asking this again- are you certain you do not need to be tied down, Flower?" the nickname seemed to have softened her a bit, and he made a mental note to use it to his benefit.

She moved her head from side to side, quietly. _Interesting_. This was not Mazikeen, and playing a cruel game with her was somewhat of a shot in the dark- but perhaps she was not as fragile as he'd assessed at first. The guilt that always came when he was inflicting pain on other beings was attenuating in light of the fervor he felt, and once he was able to soothe her terror, he proceeded to move out of the bed and stand at its foot as he unbuckled Morgan's belt.

Isley shifted uncomfortably and attempted to look over her shoulder, but he knew it was pointless without her glasses and paid it no mind. The trousers, however, almost dropped to the floor due to the size difference between Morgan and himself and he had to adjust their waist with a wee magic. The belt made a satisfying swooshing sound as he pulled it loose through the loops and held it in his hungry hand, tingling with crackling tension.

"What… what are you doing?" Isley's voice was a whisper again, as though she was afraid of disturbing the fragile balance of the moment; or perhaps she was sensing, in her female intuition, the sanctity of the ritual.

"Preparing to punish you." Replied the Demon Lord and wished he had had his wings with him, to heighten the intensity of the lashes he could not wait to land on that velvety, white and chaste body that had layers of fat to protect its muscles and bones – making it rich and round. But no amount of fat or childlike features would be able to shield it from his devilish appetite. He knew.

"For dropping the tube?"

"Cute." Said Lucifer –"But there were things you did way before that last act of clumsiness, that were tenfold more severe."

"Severe?" panted Isley and tried to make eye contact again without changing her position –"Hold on, I need to get something straight-" _there it was. The negotiation he did his best to avoid some minutes before._ However, and though he was impatient, he decided to hear her out this time, if only for the sake of entertainment.

"Flower?"

"Well, it's only a game, right? To get me out of my bad mood?"

The fact she was trying to reason with him, to make sense of this scene – an endeavor that was doomed from the start – was truly endearing. He could not resist the smile that was creeping unto the edge of his lip.

"A game?" repeated Lucifer in a slightly mocking tone.

"Well… yes…"

"No."

And he landed the first blow. It was as swift and as sudden as a meteor slashing through the atmosphere; and yet the belt was not real leather- but something lighter and airy that failed to channel his full energy. It fell higher than he'd intended, just below her left shoulder- and it was more of a caress than anything else. At least to his taste. Lucifer hated being inaccurate – but then Isley gave such a loud cry, dropped to her elbows and writhed in pain into the mattress, her excessive movements almost making the tube slip out of her.

Lucifer hurried to shove it back in unceremoniously, warning –"If you pop it out while I whip you, I might get more inventive with this punishment. This belt, as you well know, also has a buckle."

"I know-" replied Isley in a shaky voice. After her dramatic physical response he genuinely thought he had broken her already, but he did note that her palms and knees were still in place. She did not want this to be over yet. _Good_.

"I am glad we understand each other." Said Satan –"Back in position. Up on all fours- straighten your back. That's it."

The way she obeyed him completely erased his former frustration regarding the pathetic belt. He'd sometimes forget the power he had over others, especially since he got used to walking the earth in the body of a wrinkly old man- but this very moment made him feel like himself again. Made him feel strong and in control. The way he liked it. This time he was ready for the insignificant weight of his makeshift tool as he swung it in the air and whipped her three times in a row on the small of her back. She let out a short yip after each smack, but did not again collapse. After a series of a dozen more hits on her spine and her sides, it seemed she was getting used to the sensation and embracing it, even easing into it, like a sailor to the rocking of the sea.

The Demon-Lord was unpleased.

After all, this was not only about distracting her- it was mainly about _distracting himself_ , and he was far from being distracted. He was all mechanical about it. The lashes were ridiculous. They did not make her sway. Did not make her soul budge. And he, he was the Lord of Hell. He was the son of God. He would not let himself be seen as an amateur who makes girls fall asleep with his beating, rather than fall at his feet. Lucifer tossed the belt aside, cursing Clyde- who purchased it for him- in his heart. He turned back to Isley's desk to search for something that would assist him in taking her out of her comfort zone.

"That it?" asked Isley hazily, almost protesting against the abrupt halt of what must have been to her a lazy joyride.

"Merely switching instruments." He replied in a scratchy voice –"You were having too much fun. I must have misread you, Flower. You are not as delicate as you claim, eh?"

"So … you were holding back? For me?"

Lucifer grunted as he sifted through books, bottles and boxes. He was on the verge of conjuring a decent whip, despite the risk involved in it- before spotting a large black coil near her laptop. He picked it up and straightened it, feeling its thickness and heaviness. Its flexibility. Its _potential_. This was a cord. During his time on this planet he had learnt that these used to transfer electricity, but while most of them were thin and slinky, this cable was massive. It would do. _Oh, it would do perfectly._

*

The skies were red and black with sulfur and flames as they rained down towards the Earth like asteroids, spiraling in a counterclockwise tornado of dust and debris; hundreds of former angels expelled, engulfed in heavy smoke and screeching, followed by blazing trails. They fell from above on their usually tranquil village, bombarded the roofs like cannonballs and made big holes in the ground where they dropped.

Panara was an old woman now and her vision was faulty; therefore she couldn't properly see where her running bare feet were taking her, as she made an effort to dodge the crumbling huts and tents. Most of her teeth were missing and her hair was grey and tangled, her face was a wrinkled, toughened mass; but her memory remained razor-sharp and perceptive, and she _knew_ the creatures that were trashing their home, as if from an old dream. Since she had learnt not to rely on her eyes, she recognized them by their _essence_ \- even in their new horrendous appearances. She alone could tell that they had been here before.

For you see, in her heart Panara was always that 16-year-old beauty who had made love to an angel. The angel Azazel. Although he never knew it, she gave him twins shortly after his departure- a son and a daughter. The twins were popular amongst humans for they were the descendants of the divine, and they, in turn, gave the angel and herself grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Some of them she met and loved, and others were lost to her. And this afternoon, as the sky darkened and boiled, thundered and stormed- she could tell that he was around. She had sensed his presence and despite the apocalyptic atmosphere she trembled in joy and blindly stretched her arms forward, calling –"Azazel, my long-lost love! Come to me and let me hold you, after all these years!". And in her darkening world she saw his crude outline limping towards her, his lips curled in a half-grin and his feet shuffling, and she could hardly contain herself. True, he didn't have his former beauty, but neither did she. All that mattered was that they could once more reunite. However, when the demon was close enough to touch, he backhanded her cruelly and made her fall to the shaking earth. –"Step aside, ignorant whore!" he growled without ever glancing at her and stepped over her as he hurried to join his grotesque brothers.

Heartbroken, Panara raised herself on elbows and squinted her eyes at the horizon. She saw all the now-demons gathering at the top of the nearest hill, forming a circle and baring their teeth at each other, beginning to wrestle and clash one with the other in a deadly dance under the rumbling skies. Throats were ripped, limbs were uprooted and tossed like toys in a frenzy of gore. Black blood was spraying out of their wounds and coloured their ugly-to-begin-with faces, if that is what you'd like to call them. They were wild as sharks feasting on a whale's carcass. And Azazel, her former lover, was the worst of them all. He was the only one with a weapon- a jagged spear with a flint arrowhead that he used to stick in the faces of his opponents and gouge out the eyeballs with. Sometimes he did the same thing with their intestines. Panara was so transfixed by the carnage that she didn't hear the two entities approaching her, but she did hear a baritone voice saying "Here she is, the matriarch of the biggest dynasty."

"Finish her off, brother dear."

Following the voices, she turned her head and raised it. The last thing she saw was a blurry but marvelous, majestic angel surrounded by a halo and smiling down at her. She smiled back as the searing sword flew at her neck and severed her head from her body.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I am so so sorry for being away for so long. RL just kinda jumped me. but here I am again. hopefully. ALL LOVE <3


	33. Frightened by the Bite Though It's No Harsher Than the Bark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poison Ivy and Lucifer are continuting to explore each other. BDSM style. 
> 
> ["Up." Repeated Morgan, and laid yet another hefty blow on her back. This time tears came to her eyes and the miserable howl that sounded in the room was her own, only she didn't realise it until he addressed it, saying –"What do you howl for, darling?" ]

_"Moses has stood on the mountain_ _  
Devil made it thunder and rain  
Girl I ain't afraid of temptation  
No I ain't afraid of some pain  
Watchin' little doll she just come runnin'  
Running straight away  
Straight to me I got sweet nothing  
And only myself to blame_ _…" [Mark Lanegan 'Can't Come Down']_

Nothing about him was the Morgan she thought she knew. His strength was the one of a man in his prime; his movements brisk and imponderous, flashy in the journey to the desk and back, into the bed and out of it. She couldn't possibly imagine the old Professor - who used to groan like a toad each time he got up - making such quick leaps with his friable bones and the extra weight they carried. His scent was frosty and undefinable. Like the mist. Old people didn't smell like that. They smelled of naphthalene and grease and dusty umbrellas. They smelled of attics and cellars and sour yogurt, like tired things. There was absolutely NOTHING tired about him. And finally- his voice. It was undeniably young and firm, but also snaky somehow and everchanging. At times a seductive purl; at times a snappy command, and at times a libidinous growl that made her womb tumble.

He must have had _some_ secret. And after everything she'd seen tonight- with LeGrande attacked by a haunted tree, she was ready to believe that magic exited. The unnatural. The supernatural. The transcendental. The thing that was the thing beyond science and the impeccable order of physics and chemistry. Where the story of creation ceases to make sense, because it all goes back to the 'Big Bang', and nobody knows what started it. This is the point where research stands befuddled with the hands in the pockets and says "Well. Before that there was nothing."

And the average green student would ask: "What do you mean 'nothing'? How can anything come out of nothing?"

And the scientists scratch their chins and reply awkwardly –"We don't know."

And thus, all our technology, all our cutting-edge devices and discoveries, our present and our future- rely on a big black hole. Every known scientific theory has this blind spot of nothingness in the middle of it: Where did we come from? Why are we here? 

" _Lost you_ , have I?" he asked from up close, all of a sudden.

"No." she replied and straightened her position, for fear he'd comment on her slackness.

"Where did you go, Flower?" the tenderness of the question came in contrast with a lumbering knock that dropped on her from an immense height- it seemed- otherwise it couldn't have been that mighty. Isley cried out and toppled under the force of the clout, her elbows folding unwillingly, making her flop out of position.

"Up." Hissed her Captain, a tinge of excitement under his breath; but before she was able to reassume the posture, another painful shock flattened her back down- this time causing her knees to bend as well. She panted and fumbled for the headboard, fighting to pull herself upwards, when a third crash swayed her, and she lost her balance as a result. _What was he hitting her with? Not his belt, for certain_. The weight of it was unbelievable, although it felt elastic at the same time. And underneath that elasticity was the rigidness of iron. This game was by all means unfair, and it hurt horribly.

"Up." Repeated Morgan, and laid yet another hefty blow on her back. This time tears came to her eyes and the miserable howl that sounded in the room was her own, only she didn't realise it until he addressed it, saying –"What do you howl for, darling?" as another whiplash licked a bruise on her nape –"LeGrande?" – another blow –"The _moon_ , perhaps?"

"Stop. Morgan. Stop." She squirmed and attempted to turn around on her back. Sheltering herself from any upcoming smacks with quivering arms. The tube of lotion was squeezed out of her, followed by a train of slick. She never noticed how wet she'd become.

"I've already told you I would not stop under any circumstances." He reminded her, and though she was missing her glasses, she could still note the broadness of his shoulders- that were doubtlessly unlike Morgan's slouchy ones. Her breath wheezed in her windpipe – _who was this stranger?_

"However," he continued, mistaking her astonishment for lassitude –"I am willing to allow you a recess. To recuperate." And with that, he came to sit on the bed beside her. He placed the 'whip' on the nightstand and took her hands in his; then he mounted her, pinning her to the bed with his body and strength- and kissed her full on the lips. Not a hungry act of control - but something calming and breezy- like cold soda that danced on your tongue and made it numb. And to her own surprise, Isley did _cool down_. But albeit swept by the clouds of his unforeseen compassion, the clarity that came with the interlude sharpened her perception and revived her intellect. She was now analyzing the way he moved his body and his abs as they glided against her belly. She'd expect Morgan to be flabbier around the waist and out of shape – as was his demeanor – but perhaps it was time to conclude that this wasn't Morgan. Except… except the man kissing her, like Morgan, had a bad leg. She hadn't noticed it at first, for it was so subtle and she was busy being dominated and operated; but now that she had switched on her scientist's senses, it was clear that he was suffering. From time to time he'd use his right leg to push against her, and then instantly grimace into the kiss, as though he'd swallowed a bee.

Determined and inquisitive, she decided to neglect her previous unwillingness, and cooperate to see this through. She desired to know how it would unfold, and when would come the moment that would unmask this conundrum. 

"Where ARE you?" he demanded again and held her face in his hands. (big and slender hands, was the impression. Not Morgan's chubby, clumsy ones.) –"You are not allowed to drift." He continued, somewhat angry, pressing her cheeks until her mouth was forced open; but as her eyes tried to focus on his features, he slapped her left ear –"Concentrate."

"I _am_ concentrating!" argued Isley and felt her ear heating up.

"Manifestly _not_."

And he pulled her by her arms and lifted her coolly, taking her out of bed and placing her on the wooden floor, like an object. Her knees were shaking due to the sudden switch of postures, and she instinctively covered her sex, feeling exposed in spite of the thick darkness.

"Who told you to do that?" barked the man who was not Morgan.

"Nobody-"

"Certainly not me." He stressed, suggesting that she was in the wrong, and so she let her arms drop and rest to the sides of her body. She was still leaking a blend of cream and her own fluids, and it was algid on her thighs as he circled her, like a predator.

"Subservience isn't about thinking for yourself." He was lecturing, again, but not like a Professor would. But… well, like a ruler of some sort. Like someone who's gotten used to being in control – he cut off her thoughts by smacking her ass with his 'whip'- that she now gathered was the heavy cord used to connect the TV to her laptop. Thankfully, though, he had folded it in half and what he hit her with was the plastic part and not the metal bits. Plus her bum was full enough to supply a cushioning effect. That one whip didn't hurt. At least.

"In fact, it isn't about thinking at all," he continued –"But seeing that your thought are racing, and worse yet- shipping you to God knows where- perhaps a change of scenery would help us with holding these horses."

What horses had to do with it, she could not fathom; but she was soon to discover precisely what he meant as he wrapped the cord around her neck and began dragging out of the room and down the steps.

"Morgan, I'll fall!" she half-panicked, clinging unto the wooden banister and hearing the floor creaking under the burden of them both as they stumbled blindly forward.

"I won't let you fall." Came his reply, and she could tell he was grinning. The pull at her throat was firm and unforgiving. It forced her to be led, following his steadfast footsteps and reluctant to let go of the banister- the only thing that secured her. But Morgan halted for a moment to tear her hands away from that one safety. –"Trust me." He said softly –"Unless you prefer to embark on this trek on your hands and knees."

"I don't." she found herself whispering.

"Good. Then keep walking."

When they had finally reached the bottom of the stairwell she wished to stop for a rest, but then he opened the cabin door and tugged on her harder. The roar of the rain was deafening, and it sprayed and sprinkled on her face and naked body. The cold wind hit her senses like a wet slap. _Was he really going to take her outside?_ This was madness.

"Morgan! It's fucking pouring!"

"Thank you for that clarification." Said he, and pushed her past the threshold, into nature's brutal shower. It was like walking into a refrigerator. The rain was slamming upon her scalp and stabbing her other parts, like tiny pins, and the path beneath her bare feet was so icy that her toes became instantly numb.

"Morgan, please don't-" she begged, cradling herself in her arms to maintain whatever body heat left in her as she was walked from the familiar path into the mud, her teeth clanking noisily.

"Do you not fancy the outdoors?" he teased as he dragged her through the thick undergrowth, the moist earth sucking her ankles –"A botany expert such as yourself should embrace the rain, as it gives life to all this vegetation- which is your favourite part of creation, is it not? Because you certainly do not seem to be too enthusiastic about the masterpiece of it- which is people." She did not fully comprehend why he'd said 'people' with such disdain, when it was she who hated them, but then he stopped walking her and pushed her against an ancient oak tree. She made a miserable sound as the bark chafed her skin, cold to the touch, but then the canopy provided some shelter from the falling water and it was a small relief.

"Hug it." Ordered the man that was not Morgan.

"What?"

"Go on, show it some affection. Put your arms around it."

"You're a lunatic." Muttered Isley, but circled the big trunk with her arms, as she was told. The trunk was huge, too large for her to encompass in its entirety, so she knew where they were for she had recognized the tree. Behind the cabin, where no lights shone and no security cameras covered. Here, she was a slave to the darkness, standing in the chilling mud, stark naked and afraid. At the mercy of this foreign man who was even worse than LeGrande. And seriously, what was wrong with her relationship with Marc? Why did she have to dump him and end up in this damp and morbid swamp.

"You're thinking again." His voice was tender this time, not a blaming tone in its undercurrents. She hummed in return, because she could not speak- and then his hands closed on her wrists, almost lovingly. The gesture was so sweet that she quit shuddering and although her sight was blurry and the trunk was in the way, she noticed that he himself was half-naked, and that his torso (tight, and towering) was gleaming in the moonlight, like a snowy mountaintop.

"How come you're not cold?" she offered meekly as he tied her wrists together around the trunk with something stringy (her earphones?); basically gluing her to the oak.

"When one spends a sufficient amount of time in the palling heat, one learns to miss the cold and to enjoy it." He replied absent mindedly as he tightened the final knot.

" _Palling heat_?" she repeated, confused –"But this is Scotland… " she hesitated, trying to figure this out –"Or did you travel to the Sahara Desert in one of your archeological expeditions? Is that what you mean?"

"What I _mean_ is for you to be begging for mercy." He said before whipping her with the cord again, but this one lash was feral and it battered her against the tree, which in turn shook its leaves and came down on her with a flow of dead twigs and freezing water. She growled like an animal and scratched the tree bark with her fingernails.

"Barely a pat, Buttercup" Said he –"Don't go overboard." And whipped her bum so fiercely she felt as though it was catching fire.

"What was his nickname for you? Buttercup? Wasn’t it?" -whip- "Poppy?" -whip- "Bluebell?" -whip, whip, whip-

Isley's cries were lost in the clamour of the storm. She hugged the tree tighter, in hope to find some sort of comfort in its stability and quiet awe.

"You're insulting my intelligence with this pantomime. Even the cord is in more pain-" and he walloped her with the moxie of lightening so that her raw nipples rubbed roughly on the mossy crust –"Do you know how they tame horses?"

Isley howled in reply as another blow hit the middle of her back, seemingly cracking it in half. For sure, he was not deferring for her now.

"Horses are not similar to dogs." He explained and rained a sequence of lashes on her upper thighs- each and every one like the slash of a knife. She couldn't tell whether she was bleeding, sweating or wet from the rain.

"While dogs crave to be managed, because it’s in their nature, built-in to be _supplicants_ , and in fact, if they cannot find a master, they remain lost… incomplete." He stopped for a moment and stood behind her. His body heat projecting off him, he put his palm on her shoulder and made her jerk, for the flesh there had been whipped not a moment ago. She gave out a little sound. Then his voice was deeper than before, as though he was calmer now –"Horses are born free and wild. One must hunt them, fight them. And the horse master doesn't always prevail. Would you like to learn how it's done?"

"I think I got the idea." Said Isley, now leaning into the tree, but not because she wanted to.

"No, you haven't. Not quite." He pulled her hair back and planted a kiss at the base of her neck. His lips were hot and silky, and a vibe of passion jabbed through her, unexpectedly. She almost wished she could fall back on that broad chest and let him torture her forever and ever. Lock her up in a basement. Use her like an instrument. Tear her into the smallest of parts until nothing remained. Because…. Well, she knew not _why_.

"First," he said –"The young horse has to be brought down, so that they understand that they aren't in charge." He was holding her from behind, pressing his loins against her aching bum, and once again she was feeling the promise of the pointy staff, the magic wand he was hiding notoriously in his pants.

"Then," he continued as his hands crawled to the length of her arms, reaching the knot and fondling it –"As she is pinned to the ground, the horse tamer ties her four legs together, so that she wouldn't be able to kick or run off. The best part is when she tries to get up for the first time. Can you guess what happens then, Flower?"

"She falls." Panted Ivy as he nibbled on her ear.

"That's right." Answered the man who wasn’t Morgan, sounding content. Then she realized her hands were freed, but before she had a chance to use this newfound liberty and touch him, he detached her from the tree and threw her heavily to the ground. She yelled as she flew face forward into the marshland, and tufts of slippery mud were blown into her hair and face due to the impact. She was on all fours once more, reduced, degraded, _humiliated_. Only instead of fearing for her dignity or life, she was missing his closeness and his warmth, or perhaps its lack thereof.

"She struggles in vain." He continued his lecture about horse-taming –"She whinnies and neighs desperately, but she is helpless."

Isley grunted again, but did not try to shift positions or stand on her feet. He'd only throw her back down, where he wanted her- knee deep in the mud. Up to her elbows in this quagmire trap that rooted her to the source of all things alive: earth and water. The very first, basic building blocks.

"And once she's exhausted herself," he kneeled in the mud, behind her. The rain was making such a harsh white noise, so loud that he'd have to shout it he wanted her to hear him- but she heard him, nevertheless. Somehow. _In her mind_.

"And she lies on the ground, ribs heaving, foam coming out of her mouth-" his voice converted into a lower and lither version of itself, as shifty as a serpent –"until the moment is right to introduce the reigns for the first time." He laid the bulky cord on her spine, and advanced to dragging it across her back in lengthy trails that became more and more brash, yet lingered as the cord dropped between her cheeks and brushed the secret crevice there, causing her to blench in horror. _Was he honestly going to whip that delicate place?_

But the story and the scummy strokes that accompanied it ceased suddenly and were replaced by an order –"Open your mouth."

Thinking he expected her to suck him off next, Isley released her shaky jaw in silent waiting; however, once he stood in front of her, he didn't unzip his pants, but shoved the wet cable into her mouth instead. Annoyed and disappointed, she spat it right out and turned her head away in disgust.

"Now, now." He leaned, puffing a sigh of boredom, and squeezed her chin with one hand, blocking her nose with the other. There was something new to him, a crisp and arrogant spirit so bright it was nearly corporeal. And while she was resisting his lazy effort to persuade her to open up, he spoke edifyingly –"I know the mouthpiece could be uncomfortable for the horse, but it is highly efficient. It applies pressure to the tongue and the mare would lick and chew on it constantly, without being able to spit or swallow."

"Hmmm!" huffed Isley behind clenched lips.

"I surely wish I had the metal one with me."

The man knew much about horses, but then everyone in the UK was mad for them. Soon enough her lungs were screaming for air, and her mouth gaped independently- the cable was tucked between her teeth and pulled backwards, stretching her cheeks with it.

She stared upwards at her diabolic lover, and through the rain that further eclipsed her shoddy vision, she could tell he was smirking, and that his eyes were the colour or saffron.

*


	34. As an Angel Hits the Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More BDSM from Lucifer and Ivy, and some Maz who is back to complicate things... 
> 
> ""Are you a virgin, Flower?" he asked blandly.  
> Isley managed to shake her head.  
> "Then unfortunately the sensation could not be a total surprise." Commented Lucifer and pushed the tip past her petals."

_"You say when he hits you, you don't mind_ _  
Because when he hurts you, you feel alive  
Is that what it is_ _?_

_If I could stay  
Then the night would give you up  
Stay then the day would keep its trust  
Stay with the demons you drowned  
Stay with the spirit I found  
Stay and the night would be enough…" [U2 'Stay, Faraway So Close'] _

Lucifer was honestly over the moon. The smell of her sex mixed with the scent of rain was nearly enough to make him cum without ever entering her. He was on his knees behind her, pulling on the cord that he'd placed in her mouth and forcing her neck backwards. Her sounds by now were those of an angry cat, a stretched, unhappy train of mewling as she was inhaling through her nose. If she had a tail, she'd wag it, for certain. And not due to fondness.

He fancies her that way. Covered in mud that was dark against her fare skin. Her hair stuck to her scalp and unwanted shudders buzzing through her spine; the tears, or perhaps the rain, streaming down her face.

He was now at large. He'd given liberty to his cravings and had told her everything, in full detail. Of how the mare would be whipped as she circled her master, trotting to the pace he was dictating. Of how he'd exhaust her until she came to a full stop and lowered her head. Then the master would know it was the right time to saddle her and to mount her.

Isley was listening. There were no longer thoughts running in all directions through her mind. She was all his to claim and conquer, like the filly he'd described.

The moment has finally arrived, and he was thrilled, because…. Well, because he hasn't fucked a healthy, living human female since his advanture with Eve. And even she was more _divine_ than human. So he'd learnt. 

"I should warn you, Flower." He muttered as he undid his pants –"I am larger than usual."

Her verbal response- whatever it was- was muffled by the cable that pressed her tongue down. It only motivated him further. No. he did not prefer his partners to be silent at all, but here, outside and on Earth, he was treading a dangerous terrain. Therefore, he had to keep both of them as quiet as possible; and now that he has done so, he unlocked a new and darker part of himself that relished the helpless incoherency that flowed out of her mouth. Once he had taken away her freedom of speech, he had taken away her everything. He was omnipotent, like his father, and he was celebrating it. The monotonous hit of the rain on his devil shoulders was refreshing and encouraging. Like a good, hard, massage. The cold did not bother him at the slightest. He was swept by his awakening physicality, drunk on it; and almost infatuated by his dragon, stretched to its fullest and inflating with blood. It's true that the blood of angels was originally cooler and thicker than human blood, for it was not the liquid of life. However, ever since he became SATAN the fluid in his veins was transformed into something quicker and hotter. He could feel it running through his body, pumping in his heartbeat and right now- pulsating in the bestest of his organs. The moving lines of its course were painted under the skin like convoys of ants hurrying up and down the shaft.

Happy and mesmerized, the devil caressed his fiery rod with his left hand. His right one was holding the two ends of the cable, pulling and releasing it alternately. He knew she was tense due to his latest comment about the size of him. She was probably wondering how big it could possibly be. _As big as I want it to be_. He thought. Then he pressed the tip to her entrance and waited. The heat of her contrasted with the cold of the storm, and her little sway of discomfort made his nerves simmer in his femurs.

"Are you a virgin, Flower?" he asked blandly.

Isley managed to shake her head.

"Then unfortunately the sensation could not be a total surprise." Commented Lucifer and pushed the tip past her petals. It was nothing. Merely an intro as a part of him was tenuously wrapped in a moist and warm sanctuary; but when Isley squeaked he remembered how desperate she was to be taken at this time of the month, for her hormones were going wild, and how she'd begged him to take off that edge. _How deep under was he, to neglect such a crucial detail?_ With a smile smeared across his face, he released the cable somewhat, so that she could speak to him.

"Now would be a good time to plead." He said, and waited again, in silence.

At first came a cough, then a moan as she flexed her stiffened jaws. Lucifer gave her time to collect herself and soothed her by placing his open palm on her left waist, projecting warmth.

"The longer you stall, the longer we'll stay out here." He clarified, without chiding –"And if, for whatever reason, you decide not to beg me altogether; you'll leave me no choice but to restart this session, until I break you."

His tone was flat, casual, the one he'd always use with submissive partners- but underneath the surface there was giddiness in him, longing to manifest. He had to control himself.

"You've already broken me." Muttered the ginger.

"Oh, but you don't know the half of it, Flower." He said, and it was honest, because she did not know, couldn't have guessed what it was like to be cut and burnt and crave more of it, by his hand. The residents of Hell wanted to be fully conscious as they were nailed to rocks and had their insides removed bit by bit with blunt devices, and had their organs fed to them until they choked. And even that wouldn't break them. Sometimes there was need for more extreme measures such as impaling them on a rusty pole, grilling them over a bonfire and peeling the crusty skin for days. The boils would then by popped with a white-hot blade, and the rest of the skin would be filed to the bone with a grater. THEN, perhaps, they would capitulate. But it would take years, sometimes centuries. The breaking point, the actual moment of letting go was always so sweet. Both to the tormentor and the tormented. It was the magic of total relief and release. A mutual victory that united them in euphoria. Both of them left fully satisfied. No. she could not possibly know anything about that. And if he were to be completely honest, Lucifer himself did not know it at first hand, and not for lack of trying. It was his father's curse, that he should be forever unfulfilled. Even when he explored the edges of sex and violence and the two of them combined- he remained eternally incomplete the way that only perfection can be.

*

It was a hot afternoon, like all afternoons in his abandoned realm, and Mazikeen was washing Maggot behind the house of her Lord. It was a troublesome task because the beast was tall and she had to stand on a stool in order to get his back properly scrubbed. The sun rose high and hard and made his black coat shimmer. It also made both of them sweat, but she herself did not mind it. If only for the fact she'd perceived it as her duty and as an expression of her love and everlasting devotion for her master. She did not find her hope for his return to be bleak. She kept telling herself that time in Hell was deceiving and that it only felt like months had gone by, while it could very well be just her missing him that lengthened the misery.

She was stepping off the stool in order to dip the brush in the bucket of soap water, when a familiar laughter sounded from above. 

"Slave to love." Gurgled a gargoyle-

"Below and above." Answered his mate

"But she doesn't know the truth, yet."

"No, no, she doesn't know."

The three ugly creatures settled on the roof overlooking the stables, and spat their words of higher ugliness down at Maz:

"That her devil has long forgotten her."

"Indeed, indeed, he doesn't care."

"Left these ruins, abandoned his base."

"To never return, without leaving a trace."

"Hahahahaha"

"Shattered her heart and peed on her face-"

"Found a redhead in a lovely new place-"

Ignoring them, Mazikeen grabbed the iron comb and proceeded to pull it down through Maggot's thick mane. She was used to their taunting, got used to their perpetual presence chasing her around the household as she was doing her chores. Her love for her master remained the only reason why she didn't destroy them already.

But then there was something else about their sing-song teasing that day. Some new excitement in their voices as they crooned:

"Found a lovely new bride, all meek and defenseless- "

"And when all lights are out, _he is fucking her senseless_."

It was then that Mazikeen gulped, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. The gargoyles were a nuisance, evil, in the manner that only little children can be; but they did not lie. Lucifer called them crude and primitive. But even in that sense, they were lacking the sophistication that would allow them to manipulate a person. All they could possibly do was to point at the truth and echo with horrible, horrible laughter.

Without a single thought in her mind, Maz turned on her heels and fired the iron comb in their direction. She'd never missed a shot in her life, and so the comb pierced through a wing and had one member of the triplet crashing against the edge of the roof and then dropping towards the ground like a fat beetle. The other two fled, shrieking, as Maz approached the handicapped monster, Maggot at her heels. She peered down on him with one good eye, and one that was only a wet ball hanging on exposed muscles and nerves.

-"What did you say?" she growled at him –"What was that song about?" and she kicked him in his round belly.

"Only delivering the news!" he cried and try to pull the comb out.

"Leave it be!" ordered the demon-girl and then, without being told to Maggot ducked and picked up the gargoyle in his gigantic mouth, handing him to his lady who in turn grabbed him by his feet and held him upside down. His skin was scaly and toughened.

"Tell me more." She demanded and shook him violently –"Who is this woman he's been fucking? What else do you know? Tell me everything. From the top!"

She very well knew that she had no right to spy on her former master or pry into his business. Yet her burning curiosity almost stopped her heart from beating and the gargoyle was easy to scare. She just had to know, to dredge up as much information as she could. If this was just a fuck then it would hurt, but wouldn't crush her. However, if this was something else…

"WELL?" she smacked the creature on his face –"release your tongue! Come on!"

"My tongue is tied, lady." Begged the little monster–"Please, have mercy-"

His sentence was cut off by a punch to his chin –"Who tied your tongue, you shit? Did you swear on it?"

"Save your breath, Mazikeen." Came his voice from behind her, and she turned again to find Loki, his arms crossed under his chest and a typical smirk on his thin lips. His green eyes glittered with glee. No, not glee. It was schadenfreude. "It was my doing."

"And you reckon it's amusing?" she turned all her fury towards him now, tossing the gargoyle to the side and walking over to the Trickster in heavy steps.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Said he calmly –"This preposterous love you hold to your master, when he'd clearly abandoned you. T'is sad, and hilarious at the same time."

"Oh, I will-" she pulled a knife out of her many pockets, out of the armour crafted by her Lord.

"Nonsense." Said Loki. –"You will do nothing of the sort. For I am the Lord of Hell now, and I cannot be harmed or killed by you." His grin widened as she held the knife to his throat, panting.

"What?" he asked, tilting his head sideways –"Disappointed? You often get disappointed, I must say. That is because you always put your eggs in the wrong basket."

"What do you want?" she barked –"Why would you do this?"

"Oh, I merely wish for us to get along." He said softly, pushing the knife down. There was no point fighting that move, but the glare she was flaring at him reflected her thoughts of assassination quite clearly, she knew. She hated him with a passion. And she could never forgive him for helping her Master leave this castle. And herself.

"You really shouldn't have bothered." Returned she, snappishly.

"Ah, but the news intrigue you. Aren't you simply excruciated by your desire to discover more." His eyes were scanning her face, but they were not looking for clues in her expression. They were perforating her consciousness like the pitchfork does the hay. She knew denying it would be futile and only encourage him to tease her more, and so remained silent and stared back.

"If you've something to say, just say it." She blurted out.

"Should I?" he elongated the moment, probably since it granted him inexplicable joy.

"Unless you've nothing more to say, because the only piece of information you had to kindly share was that he's sleeping with a woman, which, despite being painful to me, was quite predictable."

"Predictable?" repeated Loki, looking smug.

"Yes. Predictable." She uttered impatiently and then turned away from the Trickster, and grabbed Maggot by his reigns, leading him back into the stables. Regretfully, the Asgardian followed her there, like a shadow.

"I can tell you, little demon, that it's the first time he's taken a living and human lover, since his episode with Eve."

"It isn't as if he had a choice." Said she, loading Maggot's stone trough with his favourite food. The horse's diet consisted on dried roots, coals and quartz stones the he'd crunch with his strong molars. His treat was fried black scorpions that she used to hunt for him in the night, and he preferred taking his water boiling, which was a hassle.

"No, of course he didn't" agreed Loki, and to her regret Maggot lost interest in his food and turned his head towards the Asgardian, sniffing his face fondly. –"Nevertheless, I believe that even when one doesn't have a choice, his _friends_ can still _choose_ whether to come to his aid."

"To his _aid_?" Mazikeen frowned, and could not hold back her spirits from falling into a turbulence of confusion –"What are you implying, Loki?"

"Awww, hush now, little one. I do not mean anything in particular-" the horse then tried to chew on his hair, and he stopped mid-sentence as he pushed the big head away from his.

"Let it go, you silly animal!" Maz pulled the mount by his reigns once more and secured the strap to a ring on the wall. "Then what are you saying _in general_?" she knew by now that the Trickster was unable of delivering a message in a straightforward way. There was nothing to do about it but to walk into his verbal maze and search for the gist of things.

"Well. Merely that life on Earth would appear … challenging for someone who'd spent thousands of years underground…"

"He made his bed, he's welcome to lie in it." Returned Mazikeen. 

"What if it's a bed of nails?"

"Doesn't he prefer it that way?"

"First you were jealous, then concerned, and now you are angry. Why is that?"

"You know why that is." Said Mazikeen and removed her boots and her gloves, casting them to the corner of the stables.

"You swore to follow him anywhere." Reminded Loki, touching a hidden fleck at the bottom of her being –"Would you not follow him there? Just to peek?"

"He said not to." She said grimly.

"Really?" Loki smiled, as was his habit –"Did you ever read that note he'd given you?" 

*

"I… I'm begging you- Morgan…" mumbled Isley.

"Again. Louder." He was taking a step back, pulling his wand away from her hungry garden. She wanted to scream, and so she did.

"PLEASSSEEE!" there was no holding back, no dignity, no self-awareness. She was completely stripped –"Morgan, Please, please please fuck me. Please." Her voice broke into a whisper. She was so cold and so horny she could die.

"Ahh-" she growled as he put his cock back between her folds. She licked the plastic cable that was a constant bother in her mouth, like summat in your teeth.

"Again." Ordered his voice, that was velvet and thorns.

"Please fuck me-" she parroted, half-delusional, only hesitating because she now remembered him, vaguely, mentioning his size.

"You did not mean it."

"Yes, yes I did!" she hurried to reply "I did to! Please. Pleassseeeee!"

"That is not good enough, I'm afraid." He pulled his cock away from her again. This time he took it further back, and her pussy was hit with a freezing draft. The storm was roaring around them, and she could not feel her fingers or her toes that were deep in the mud. Defeated, Isley closed her eyes and held her head down. She no longer cared about what was going on, for there was no way to please him. He was only playing her for his fun.

*

They always say that he fell; All of them, supposedly 'fell'- but the term only refers to their moral decline. In truth, they didn't fall at all. They were thrown. They were forcefully, violently slammed and smashed against the earth, the way a walnut is smashed against a rock to get to the sweet brain inside. Most of them were lucky enough to hit 'just' solid ground as they crashed and form big craters due to their gigantic size. Lucifer, however, was deliberately thrown unto a craggy cliff that cracked his ribs and punctured his lungs. He lay on the pointy fingers of spiked stone for quite a while, letting the chaos come about and longing for Death- who did not turn up. When he gathered that he could not perish, he detached himself achingly from the rock and gazed down the hill to see his brothers, now his demons, making utter fools out of themselves. They all fought against each other with ravenous hatred, wasting all their strengths on diminishing and demolishing what could be a perfectly good army. And to boot, as he looked upwards he saw the host of Godly angels coming down on silver horses, shielded and armed with golden swords, to take down the lovers and the children of the angels who sinned. Supposedly. But, it seemed that these angels had all taken the freedom to do whatever they wanted, even if it was not the original decree of God. Some of them just murdered randomly, whoever crossed their paths. Some of them whispered to each other, and he knew that they were planning to get rid of the demons, too.

With a grunt, Lucifer spread his wings and flapped them mightily. His wounds closed and healed immediately, to his surprise. What was father trying to tell him by giving him this gift of healing? Was he trying to seed hope in his mind? No. he was only trying to prolong his suffering.

After what his father had said in the chamber, Lucifer knew that he wouldn't be done with him, wouldn't be content before he saw him writhing with want and becoming a slave to his own cock.

'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth' was a concept that God fancied. The punishment always matched the sin. It was always symbolic, poetic. If the sin involved keeping secrets, so did the punishment, as was in Lahash's case, for instance. After hiding the truth from God and whispering behind his back, his punishment was to hear whispers in his head while his lips were sewn shut. If one used his strength to intimidate and loved to demonstrate his power, as Aza did, his punishment was to have an uncontrollable energy sizzling inside him. Whatever he touched, he ruined now. His mightiness was so intense and unmeasured that what he believed to be a gentle stroke became a devastating blow. Everything around him was in shambles, and because he used to brag, he could not speak now at all. When he opened his mouth, only a strident jabber came out.

And finally, Lucifer, who stained humanity with libido and lust- lust was his fate now, and lust was his obsession and doom. His cock became his compass and the crave to satisfy its endless hunger became his goal and mission. However, at this very moment, his Eros drove him to do something else entirely, which was to put some sense into these troops of imbeciles.

"HERE!" he hollered from the top of the hill, spreading his wings to their full size until they eclipsed the sun. "CEASE THIS FOOLISHNESS!"

For a single second the battlefield was as silent as a tomb. Angels, Demons and Humans all stared up at him in astonishment; but before the next second came they went back to their gory engagements.

"Dearest Brother." Said a soft voice to his right.

Haunted, Lucifer turned his head to see Michael at his side. The angel was smiling.

"Originally," he said –"Father planned to throw you so hard into the ground so that you'd penetrate through the many layers of lava and rocks and get stuck in the core of the planet."

"Right."

"Do you not like that idea? Penetrating?" offered his puritan brother.

"I will not honor that question with an answer." Replied Satan.

"Very well." His brother picked a broken feather from his wing and threw it to the Sulphur wind–"But you should know this: if you want them halfwits demons to listen to you, you should set an example, to make them admire you once more."

"Doing what?" grunted The Lord of Light.

"Sinning? Slaughtering? Take your pick." Chuckled Michael –"One should only do what they excel at."

*


	35. Vanilla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No plot. Just BDSM for Ivy and Lucifer. coz I felt like it :P

_"The sun and sea are smiling  
While you're going to bed  
Wish Allah would will me  
A piece of iron in my head_

_On my knees and wishing  
On my knees and breaking hands…" ['Breaking Hands', The Gun Club] _

The storm has somewhat abated and made way for eerily swooshing gusts. Isley was slowly rocking back and forth to keep herself warm. She couldn't think of any other way to beg him aside for this bodily gesture; and frankly, she was tired, and her muscles were shaking with fatigue. Her brain was stuffy with thick clouds and she was about to fall asleep, despite the raw ardor that made her insides clench in a quiet request for his dragon.

"Stay here." Commanded the villainous lover. His voice was coming from a distance, maybe from the dunes of the Sahara where he was harvesting treasures once in his youth. _No. Not very likely._

"I wasn't going anywhere…" she protested.

"Going to sleep would be running away from me." He asserted, and before she had a chance to digest the cracking sound from behind and wonder about its origin, he whipped her bum forcefully, with what must have been a broken branch.

As she was jerked into full attention once more, her scream was muted by the massive cord in her mouth. She growled and bit down hard on the plastic, feeling her teeth sinking into the material. It was means to funnel her irritation that barely sufficed. She would erode her enamel on the cluster of fibers a million times before it would offer consolation.

"Wake up." The branch slapped the isle between her cheeks and brushed her entrance, which set it ablaze. She swung forwards to escape the pain, only to be pulled back by the cable.

"I am up, I am up!" she attempted to yell, but the obstacle between her lips made it sound like gibberish. Nevertheless, the man with the yellowy eyes loosened the pull on the cord and leaned down to kiss her temple with such tremendous tenderness that she could not but sob.

"Morg…ggan…" she whispered, wanting nothing more but to cuddle with him –"Please…"

He hummed in approval –"See? _Now_ you're begging."

"Wh…what?" baffled, she turned her head out of instinct, and the man grabbed her skull with firm fingers and placed her back in position.

"Do not look at me." He said.

"I cannot see anywa-!" her line was brutally intruded by the cable stretching back once more.

"Shut up, Flower." Said he –"There's no more need for talking."

_Why_. She found herself musing over this. _Why would there be no need for talking?_ Was that it? Did he just want her to cry? Because, honestly, she had been begging him for the better part of the hour and humiliating herself in every approach she could imagine, including suggesting things she had never done in her life. She offered to suck on his balls (to which he replied with an ironic chuckle), to drink his piss (to which he replied with rolling laughter) and to nestle his cock betwixt her breasts (to which he answered with something close to a groan). She said she'd dance for him, rub his whole body with an aphrodisiac she concocted out of rare plants, or even play dead, if that was what he was after. . .

And in the end, all he wanted from her was tears? Could he not ju-

"AH!" his scepter thrusted past her petals again, and parked at the point where it tickled the borders of her well. Her breath froze in her lungs, for fear of ruining the moment, of driving him away when she wanted him inside.

"Calm down." He spoke, almost as if he were in her head. –"I'll start slow." Snigger and bitterness in his tone suggested he was either parodying the scene or unhappy about something nameless. Be it as it may, the dullness of his motions remained; as though he were dejected. 

"MMMM!" she fought the cable in her mouth, because NO. no no. she didn't want him to be slow. She wanted him to pound into her like a machine. She wanted him to split her in half with that dragon of his. She wanted him to-

"I am not slow for your sake, but for mine, so save yourself the trouble of trying to push me." He prodded her hole with his bulgy staff. She could tell it was fat. It was already opening her outer lips to their complete capacity. No, she didn't mind it. However big he was, she could take it. But why would he need to go slow _for his sake_? That was bizarre. Men wanted it fast. They wanted to hammer down at a rhythm that was mostly unfair and ineffective. _What if he wasn't a man?_

The idea had the irregularity of a thunderbolt and it shifted the focus from her sex to her stomach. _If not a man, then what?_

"Are you thinking, Flower?" he said, sounding amused. Terror seized her, because she figured he might stop and go back to the start, to linger and postpone and keep her on her toes. She couldn't possibly afford that, now that they were so close to the shore. She shook her head like crazy.

"Not to worry." He reassured –"Your thoughts will be all gone soon." And with that he drove his tip into her cramped circle. All her muscles objected and bade her to reject him. He slipped out with a grunt and pressed in again. This time he stood his ground as her body squirmed around him in vain. The pain was intense. As though she was cleaved by a sword. She bit down on the cable again, doing her best to suppress her instincts.

"That's it. Good girl." Said he, and a warm wave washed her, under the dripping leftovers of rain. Just hearing this, that she was pleasing him, made her sort of content. She was willing to take this pain just to hear him praising her again. But as he pushed another inch of him into her tunnel, came a searing spasm that made her totter out of position and end up in the muddy puddle beneath, on her belly. There was mud in her unwillingly open mouth and in her ears. His cock slipped out again due to the accident and the man pulled her upwards by the cable. She clambered to her hands and knees and moaned in vexation. She wanted him inside her more than anything, but her body was betraying her.

"Patience." He said –"Don't rush it."

Sluggishly, as in a stuttering youtube video, he pushed in for the third time. While trying to take him in, she discovered she was sweating all over. Laboring for this task. There was a particularly itchy drop of sweat moving down her other hole and driving her insane. She so wanted to turn around and give it a fair scratch… but twisting herself might pop him out, which wasn't on her agenda. His enormous mallet was insistent, adamant to plant itself inside her. Push by push it came closer to be engulfed in her folds. He would stop the thrusting from time to time and lean down to nibble on her ear, whispering: "Flower, you amaze me. You open up so beautifully, just a little more, and I'll be fully submerged. I want to tear you apart. I want you to scream as I breach you." -another inch of him sagged in the right direction- for some reason, these dirty words made her more pliant and more compliant. She bit down on the cable and spread her legs for him, the mud reaching her thighs by now.

"Oh, you're a beauty." Said he –"I had thoughts about taming you, but your ex-lover completed the job for me. You just crave to be dominated, don't you? Crave to be property. A possession handled and managed. Something in your nature." He was speaking from the twilight of his perception, it seemed. And no, it wasn't in her nature. She's only gotten used to it. The years with LeGrande made her never wonder about what she liked, but liking what she had instead.

"Ah-" following an eternity of stirring inside her to widen her passably for his rod, his moan of pleasure was the most angelic music she'd ever heard. She squeaked in echo and wiggled around him, feeling his absolute length so staggering it was up to her navel from the other side. It was far from comfortable, and yet stunning. So tightly wrapped they were welded, with no room left to shift or even break away. For some reason she knew that even if she wanted to press him out now, it would be too late. Then he moved, but not in the way she'd anticipated. He let go both of the cord and of the base of his cock, and used his two arms to gather her into a hug, strong around her stomach. He held her up to his flat and rigid abs and chest (nope, not Morgan. _Definitely_ not Morgan), fucking her from behind in short, unhinged bursts. The shock didn't even manage to take root before she gave in to something else: astonishment. She could not put together how this dominant male who whipped her could let out such desperate howls, like a wounded wolf in her ear. And then again, in his vulnerability she found him all the more attractive. Mixing his sounds with her own, she closed her eyes and sailed upon the longest, most tantalizing of orgasms.

*

Like a drunkard abruptly regaining his senses, she had woken up under a warm gush of water, finding the starkness of her senses again- all but her vision. Her palms were spread across the tiles of the bathroom wall, she was feeling him, scraping her shoulders with a sponge-gourd, cleaning her fingernails in hasty swipes, then going down on his knees to scrub her ankles and her still hurting thighs. She could smell him- but he did not smell of cum or of sweat. Then again, there was no way of knowing because the shower was steaming with the scent of coconut and lemon. Her womanly products. She could hear her own heavy sighs as he went over a fresh bruise here and a stinging scratch there. Taking pleasure in disturbing her minor injuries, for sure. Her eyes fluttered open and she used one of her hands to wash her face from forehead to chin. It was dark and she wished to turn around, but he gently pushed her against the wall by her shoulder.

"What's happening?" she sounded panicked in her own ears.

"Not a thing. We are taking a shower together." Like a traveler through time, she had no idea where she'd landed. Everything was off, making her heart rush and her blood flood with adrenaline. She was scared, but not of him. She was scared of forgetfulness. And her pussy was flaming as though it has been slashed by razors.

"It's unhealthy to wash so often." Her medical knowledge was her only island in this ocean of oblivion.

"It's also unhealthy to have your odor floating about." He rose again and put two fingers to her entrance, playing with her chafed petals.

"Please don't-" she tried to push his hand away, but found that it was as solid as a brick wall. He halted for a second, then drooped to his knees in one flowing stream –"My tongue, then." He declared and began lapping at her clit.

"If you don't like how I smell, then why would you take me?"

The soft tongue circling her bud unrulily stopped that he could speak –"Do not think that." He was hugging her legs –"Because you do not understand."

"You hate my scent so much that you've been washing me frantically. What's not to understand?"

Her bud was pulsating, wanting his tongue to give it its undivided attention, but her mind wanted answers. And it would win this battle.

"Flower-"

"How long was I out for? When did we come in here?"

"No more than a few minutes." He burrowed his nose between her cheeks and made her gasp –"Now I am going to make you cum three time with my tongue. I'm gonna need you utterly relaxed for what I planned next."

"Planned next?" she couldn't believe it, but apparently her body didn't care. She braced herself on the pole that held the showerhead and moaned loudly as he sucked her. 

*

She was once more clean and didn't smell like herself, which he favored, because that way he was able to _think_. He laid her on the bed, back against the headboard, and tucked her in, covering her nakedness with a duvet before walking over to the window to roll down the blinds and keep the breaking dawn out. Before the blinds were all the way down, however, he picked up the round box he'd left on the windowsill when the night was still young. Then he picked up the spoon he'd placed on the nightstand when he was outlining this session and hoping it would come to pass. He sat on the mattress beside her and she turned her head sideways, dazed and drained.

He liked her that way.

"Morgan…"

"Yes?"

"I need to sleep. I have a thing at the University, in the morning."

"It's already morning, and you're not going anywhere." Said he.

"Morning? Are you serious?" she jumped to a sitting position, when he pushed her back down by her chest, not missing the opportunity to squeeze one of her breasts as he did. Although he's let her cum many times since they started this, he would not allow himself the same privilege, and he was hot as Hell.

"As serious as Death." He replied –"We are not done." And he removed the lid off the container he was holding, revealing the creamy and appetizing content –"You need to be fed."

"No, no I don't… really-" she refused him gently, mistakenly thinking, perhaps, that she had a say.

"You misunderstand me, Flower." The devil stuck the spoon in the icy goo awaiting in the box and pressed her cheeks together with one hand –"The rules still apply. You disobey me, and we restart this. The beating, the whipping, the cold. Is that what you want?"

Slowly, she shook her head from side to side. Cocooned in the duvet like that, she looked cute, so he smiled. Releasing her, he began stirring the chocolate-vanilla flavoured ice-cream with the spoon –"Close your eyes and open your mouth. If you spit it out, I will whip you. If you puke, I will feed you your own vomit, and if you defecate yourself… well, you can only guess. Now, open."

"Is it oil?" she asked naively, still devoid of her eyesight. 

"You'll know it just a moment."

And so Lucifer dug the spoon into the ice-cream and scooped up a big, frozen heap, then loaded it into her mouth.

"Close." He ordered with anticipation, and as her mouth lowered on the spoon her eyes flew open in horror, and she tried to get away. Satan then discarded the box aside and leaned over to seal her mouth with his palm –"Shh, shhh, shhh…" he hissed, holding her close as her eyes teared up –"Swallow it. All of it. You want to be a good girl for me, right? A brave girl? Swallow it, and I will let you explain why you hate it so much, I promise."

He truly expected her to bite him or try to kick him off of her, but she gulped up the lump courageously, and then broke into weeping. He let go of her face and allowed her to rest.

"What?" he asked, scanning her grimacing expression.

"It's… the _cow_ …" she blurted.

"What about the cow?" he asked in mock consideration as he picked up the box and resumed digging into it, to help it melt faster. 

"She…" Isley's sobs were truncated by hiccups –"She doesn't give this milk willingly! She produces it for the calf-"

"I see." Nodded Lucifer and shoveled another spoonful of ice-cream unto her tongue. The ginger seemed miserable in her attempt to hold the dessert in her mouth, and then she gagged and spat the milky substance on her chin. Lucifer immediately slapped her –"Keeping it against your pallet, where you can taste it and think about it will get us nowhere, as I intend to feed you the whole package."

"I… I cannot…" she pleaded –"I haven't touched it since I was five."

"Do I seem impressed?"

"I can't see you-"

"Right." The Devil smiled and dragged the spoon up her chin, collecting the trail of ice-cream that was mixed with drool and feeding it back to her. This time she was wise enough to swallow without argument. "Now tell me more about the cow. I'm listening."

"The calf…" she closed her eyes as hard as she could, shaking her head in deep sorrow –"is stolen from her. The milk is stolen from her, too."

"What good would be her milk to her without her calf?"

"That's not the point!" revolted Isley, furious –"Do you reckon it's moral to raise cows, who are intelligent beings, by the way, only so they could breed them against their will, to force them to produce milk; but then once they have that baby the ba-" Lucifer shut her up with another load of ice-cream to her chattering mouth, but then out of impulse he hadn't the will to resist, he closed the distance and covered her lips with his, sending his tongue forward to help that blob of vanilla down her throat.

"Mmmm!" she struggled, hitting his shoulders with little fists, but her second 'Mmm…" was softer, passionate, and he could feel it vibrating through her covetous body. Kisses were more precious than intercourse. He'd already gathered how well she responded to them and how they'd wipe out her rationality. And since it was all about him and about wanting him, an idea came to his mind as he broke the kiss, and he grinned to himself.

"I can help you get through this." He said, not expecting an answer –"and it would not be cheating."

The next load of ice-cream he scooped with his two fingers, placing the container and spoon back on the nightstand. –"Open up."

"I don't want anymore…" she sobbed quietly –"You might as well be feeding me concrete-"

"You're making a big fuss out of nothing." He said, adding cruelly –"Both mum and baby cow are already dead. There's no reason why their sacrifice should go to waste. Now, open up before I replace this ice-cream with a steak."

That seemed to settle her, however 'settled' she could be under the circumstances. She opened up a shuddering jaw, tears gliding down her features like big marbles.

"Wider." Said Lucifer –"and do not bite."

She whined, a glorious whine, as he jammed his coated fingers into that slippery refuge, smearing the cream on her tongue and her teeth, rolling his fingers so that they'd reach every corner, making sure that this time she'd get the full experience.

When he repeated that strategy for the second time, she closed her lips on his digits and sucked in an effort to speed up the process, or perhaps she was enjoying this? Loving the taste of real, fatty cream? Either way, her moans and the suction hardened his hard-on even further, and after days and months of preventing himself from cumming, he knew that there was no way he could delay it for one more second.

Panting, he drew his hand out of her mouth and pushed it deep into the ice-cream. In his mad enthusiasm, he used four fingers to collect an amount of cream the size of a lemon, and plunged it ferociously between her luscious lips.

"Suck!" he growled unrestrainedly, and had most of his hand inside her, while using his other to fuck into. It was sticky and unpleasant, but he did not care. His dragon was achingly puffed and he knew that his orgasm would be rough. He used to run these experiments on himself, because he secretly believed that avoiding climax would be a small victory over God. It never was. When he'd finally cum after a long period of abstaining, it would always be a painful peak. And still he'd try it. And now he was facing one of these terrible yet inevitable orgasms, and he was angry and out of control. He bawled like a burning man as his orgasm rode him; an electric current starting at the base of him and hitting every cell all the way up to his chest. Then it lingered in him and would not fold. It rattled him so, that he'd forgotten where he was. Rambling, he shot his sperm into the ice-cream container, that was still half-full. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woz working real hard on this one, and I am most proud of it, as it moved me and woz almost compulsary to write on my part. also the song (after many searches for something suitable) tore my heart. hope you enjoyed it.


	36. In the Filthiest of Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mazikeen thinks that perhaps she had it all wrong...

_"You are a splendid butterfly  
It is your wings that make you beautiful  
And I could make you fly away  
But I could never make you stay  
You said you were in love with me  
Both of us know that that's impossible  
And I could make you rue the day  
But I could never make you stay_

_Not for all the tea in China  
Not if I could sing like a bird  
Not for all North Carolina  
Not for all my little words  
Not if I could write for you  
The sweetest song you ever heard  
It doesn't matter what I'll do  
Not for all my little words…"_

_"_

_[Magnetic Fields 'All my little words']_

"You _swindler_! You schemer! You **_falsifier_**! You piece of SCUM I'd never want to-" pots and pans and cutlery flew over Loki's head, missing him by inches as he was comfortably lounging in his chair by the fireplace, leafing through a heavy book about torturing methods.

"Never want to… what?" he sounded interested.

"Forget it, you arsehole." Another plate smashed just above his head and the china chips deflected from him before landing at his feet.

"Let me assume: 'never want to eat another onion in my life?'" he tried, and turned a page "hmmm 'never want to throw anymore dishes at you, because I keep on missing?'"

"Sonovabitch." Panted Mazikeen, her hair a dark halo around her half-ruined face.

"That isn't accurate." Corrected Loki with one finger in the air –"My dear mother was rather civil, they tell me. And not a bitch by any means. But then again," he scratched his chin, looking at the ceiling –"She did give me up, which is quite a bitchy thing to do, so aye, I guess a 'bitch' would be fitting."

"I don't wanna hear anymore of this shit."

"No, you probably don't. then listen to this: " The Trickster cleared his throat before quoting from the book he was holding –"'Pulling out the tooth with a pincer requires a fair amount of force. When the subject is awake It is recommended to use a spiraling motion that would assist in releasing the hold of the gums and destroying the root-'"

"You are despicable." Concluded Mazikeen.

"Disgusting?"

"That too."

"Honestly, have you peeked in the looking glass lately?" Loki slammed the book shut and walked over to the demon-child –"You are a shredded mess. You look as if you've been run over by a rhino. And _I_ am disgusting?"

"What…?" horrified, Mazikeen raised her hand to her face and touched to its left side. She's met the familiar, sticky and bloody mass of muscles and tendons. Everything was in place, but it was not hidden anymore. It was no longer a secret that her face was destroyed. Hit by a curse in her childhood. Her glamour dissolved and no longer concealed her flaws. Her Lord, who fancied women of great beauty, would never want to set eyes on her again. Not to mention the note he had left for her… she opened her left fist and glanced at the crumpled piece of paper there, stained with sweat. With her spirits broken, she strode over in the direction of the fireplace.

"Woah, tarry, rash wanton!" Loki leapt and grabbed her by her wrist.

"Let go of me, you grime."

"Is that his note? Why don't you let me see it?"

"You already know what's written in it!" the demoness kneed his crotch and made him fold. At least that move he did not foresee. She was indeed quicker to think than he was to read minds, and yet he did not release her. He was bending in a ridiculous position, holding unto her hand, his face scrunched in a projection of pain –"Just a second there-"

"You LIED to me." She threw a punch at him that retaliated by his magic.

"No, no. Not at all." He seemed offended, somehow –"What did he writ? Some sort of rejection?"

"Good guess." Mazikeen finally decided there was no use to this conversation. She stuck the note to his forehead with a slap –"Knock yourself out." She said as he released her to grab the note –"I literally mean it."

She reverted her eyes from him and began picking up the dented dishes from the floor. After all, they belonged to her master, and now that her tantrum receded she was ashamed of herself for throwing his stuff around with such carelessness. Lucifer was a collector and all of his possessions were precious, rare things. He'd spent decades, perhaps centuries finding these articles. The goblets were delicate green glass, from a country called Serbia. He'd told her once. The glass was carved out of stones mined in a cave that accommodated water dragons and miniature vampires. None of the miners survived after that digging. The forks were made from the tusks of mammoths. The pans came from a place called 'New-York' and they were the smoothest metals –

"'Forget me'" hummed the Trickster behind her.

"Yeah, that's what it says." The words hit her for the second time, no less of an arrow through her guts. The demon-girl swallowed her tears and added –"I'd never look at it, if it weren't for you."

"Because you're being unreasonable and childish, just like him."

"Spare me." Maz piled the dishes. What a superfluous idea, to try and harm Loki. His magic was getting stronger every day and his position, his job, as the Ruler of Hell made him practically untouchable.

"Do you reckon he'd meant that?"

Maz exhaled and bit her tongue. She did not want to be dragged into another idiotic dialogue. Not again. She didn't want him to plant anymore hopes in her soul. Because these hopes might just sprout.

No. It was better to wait here until her master returned. It could take a while. Quite a while. But then God was bound to find him sooner or later, and when he does, he'll send him back home where he belongs. And when he's back she will be there, to accept him and welcome him and wash his feet in a basin of nice, scented milk. She will suckle on his toes. She will dip them in honey to make the skin healthy and flexible. She will groom his big wings by oiling them in the essence of lavender and mint… well. All of these things could not be found in Hell, but she could make a trip to-

"Dreams of sex and subservience?" chuckled Loki and she was taken aback by his abilities to protrude into her mind, although it was his daily conduct. She blushed in silence.

"You can keep quiet if you like, it looks good on a slave." He began circling her, pouncing, as in a weird dance -"But let me paint a picture for you, while you pretend to ignore me."

Mazikeen huffed and took the dishes back to the kitchen with her. He followed.

"You just want to talk me into leaving so that you could demolish this house. You want me out of here." That was the only reasonable explanation to why he'd be doing this. But she would not succumb to his lies and his twisting of the grim reality. Her master has left the castle. He'll only be back once he fulfills his urges or be caught.

"Demolish this house?" he made a drama out of sounding astonished –"My dear, I haven't lived such a luxurious life since my youth. Impairing this lifestyle would be highly moronic on my part."

Maz's mismatched eyes scoured him doubtfully.

"And as for wanting you to leave; I must say that you are way off target. I find your company rather chirpy and delightful."

Maz snorted.

"But let us get back to the topic you've been evading: the note of horror."

"What about it?"

"Well." Loki crossed his hands behind his back and began pacing, softly, like a mountain lion –"Taking into account the personality of our beloved associate –"

"Don't call him that."

"Pardon. Our gorgeous yet hardheaded Lord of Light." The hyperbole annoyed her, but not as much as the previous statement, that aimed to belittle Lucifer –"that is, his infantile demeanor, self-loathing, obsessiveness, possessiveness, ambivalence, temerity, -"

"Anything else?"

"-and pride," finished Loki –"one can rightfully assume that he did not mean what he wrote."

"That would be assuming too much." Maz placed the dishes on the counter and glanced out the window. There was a centipede in the distance, three times the size of Maggot , and ten times more threatening. It scuttled across the sands as though it was being chased. But before long she knew why it was in such a hurry: it spotted a man riding a huge agama lizard, charged forward and rose on its bottom half, billowing its hideous limbs at the rider. Mazikeen frowned and covered her mouth as the monster uprooted the rider from his mount and began consuming him alive, feet first.

She turned away from the window to look at Loki, which wasn't a great improvement.

"Really? Because you reckon he'd ever dare say how he feels?"

"Unlike you, I don't take the liberty to interpret, or over-interpret a perfectly pronounced attestation."

"Oh, so you expected him to decry himself by stating the truth?"

Mazikeen was infuriated by that last comment, and she approached Loki and pushed him back by his chest –"Because you don't think I'm worth it? Because you don't think I'm worthy of him saying-"

"Now, now." Loki used a bubble of magic to keep her away from him –"Quite the opposite. Of course you are worthy. If anything, it's him who isn't worthy of YOU. It's only that in his eyes, in his mind, admitting something such as love would be considered a failure."

"Love." Repeated Maz and her mouth went instantly dry.

"Oh, you silly creature." Said the Asgardian, triumphantly, almost sympathetically –"Why else would he invite you to his bed? Make you this glorious armour? Do you reckon he does that often?"

"I honestly don't know." The words left her lips in parched puffs. She had to sit down, and so walked over to the lounge and came to berth on the sofa, where her master once made her climax. Her mind was in a jumble.

"Just before you decide to follow him," the Trickster farther elaborated –"I suggest you ruminate wearing a better face."

*

"Drink it." Said the man tipping towards her, his thighs pushing against hers over the blanket, and his breath piping hot on her face. The rim of the box touched to her lips, and she knew there was more molten ice-cream in it. As well as his spunk, for he had wanked into it, having rubbed himself frantically not a moment ago. The sounds he made suggested he'd finally cum, and guzzling down his jizz blended with the milk that was taken unrightfully from the cow just didn't seem appealing.

"Mmm-mm." she hummed, keeping her lips together.

"This is not a request." He was using his commander's voice. –"I give an order, you comply. That is all there is to it, Flower. You are my property." She shuddered beneath him –"Mine to control. Mine to have when I want, mine to take and mine to destroy. You don't want to find out what I am capable of. I could rip out your petals. I could tie you down with your own hair after I shave it off with that rusty razor of mine. I could suck your eyes out of their sockets with my mouth."

"Okay, alright-" she blurted, agreeing. She was fucked out and way over resisting him. Not that she thought he'd externalize his ominous professions, but she also didn't want to put it to the test. She opened her mouth and swigged the solution.

To her utter surprise, it wasn't at all what she'd imagined it would be. His semen was not similar to any semen she'd tasted before. It was SWEET, rather than salty or bitter, and it was blank, glossy, as if there were no seeds in it, which was weird. It mixed harmoniously with the ice-cream, to the point where she thought that perhaps it was all just a sham. Again, he must have been playing her. She drank the entire content without insurgence- and left the container empty. The taste of ice-cream dawdled on her tongue and she had to accept the fact it was delicious. She also berated herself for savoring it and kept reminding herself of the cow bellowing in agony for her lost child.

"Good girl." He said and she got a glimpse at his shining eyes as he placed a kiss on her forehead. "We'll get some sleep now."

"Sleep??" she muttered in disbelief, because it had to be a trap.

"Did you not want that? Do you not need it?" he challenged, teasing –"Because if you don't, we could continue. I have lots of things in mind that I still want to do to you."

"No, it's alright."

"Rummage. Ravage. Savage-"

"It really is cool-" she panted, because his words did stir her, and a fresh trickle tickled as it ran between her legs. She shifted a little under his weight.

"Hmmm." He said –"We sleep, then." And he turned her on her side, lifted the blanket, crawled close and lay behind her. Once he got both of them covered, his one arm dragged her to him until she was glued to his body, and his rod- as valid as ever- was snug between the curves of her arse. The sensation was heavenly. So alleviating, it was out of this world. She never thought of herself as a weak person, but here she was shivering of passion, wanting more of this closeness, and she moved her bum up and down his length.

"Sleep. I said."

"But you're so hard-"

"What of it?" his breath, on her ear. So hot. So auspicious.

"Don't you want to cum?"

"It's you who wants it, and you will not get it. Not now. Now go to sleep or I will take you outside and whip you until you forget your own name."

If he believed that that would make her any less willing, then he was wrong. After all, the idea of it turned her on. Yet, as yearning as she was, she wanted to please him, and so she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. It was impossible, because all she craved was to have him inside her again. He had to be wanting the same thing… however, after some time her tiredness took over, and as she was drifting into slumber her last thought was, was that it had to be, ought to be a trap…

*

She woke up sometime during this, not knowing the hour, not knowing anything in the darkness but the pressing reality that her bowels were aching. She could tell this would happen. Her body was not used to digesting milk, and the result was harrowing. Hurting. She moved in his embrace and tried to get his arm off her, planning to pay a visit to the toilets- but he gripped her securely and said calmly –"No."

"What do you mean 'No'? Morgan, I have to use to toilets. I'll be right back. Promise."

"You're not going." He decided for them both and held her tighter. –"You could fight me, if you wish, but it would only make it worse."

"What?" her eyes snapped open in the darkness, and she twisted in his arms, realizing shortly that it was futile. Tears filled her eyes –"Morgan. Please."

"Please, what?"

"Release me. Let me go. I will come back."

"I don't want to let you go." He said simply and caressed her belly –"Is that where it hurts?"

And then it dawned on her, that it was all a calculated ruse. The going to sleep, the caring. Supposedly. He knew that milk would do that to her. He was only waiting for it to make its journey down her system. Because he was evil like that. Not a man, but a demon. Her eyes filled up with tears as he drove his hands up and down her tummy.

"Is that where it hurts?" he repeated, his voice gentle and placid.

"Yes…" she whispered, defeated.

"Let me rub it all better, then." He said and flipped her on her back.

*


	37. Under a Lilac Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things between Luci and Poison Ivy are really heating up. Death decides it's time to put an end to it. This one is dedicated to TheLightdancer- a precious friend and a source of inspirtation <3

_"Babe you got it wrong  
This isn't me at all  
You're hitting on the wrong man  
Ain't that so  
  
Be true to what you are  
And to everything you swore  
Be true to me until I  
Ask you for more_

_The best illusions that we make  
Are the ones that we don't fake  
I'm sticking to the good lie  
That you can't shake…" _ _[Warhaus – 'The Good Lie']_

Death was watching the events unfolding from her room of numerous windows, deep within her house of secret places and timeless chambers. It was a huge hall, vibrating and buzzing with constant change, on a plane that was perpetually unchanging. The windows did not have panes and they were arranged in neat rows that filled up the walls and the ceiling. Each window was an opening to a life moving in its own, solipsistic course of time, and usually doing so in a body. Some of the windows glowed, to indicate that a new life was about to transpire, and some of the windows darkened in a forewarning of the opposite. It was her office to visit both kinds of windows and usher their owners in the right direction. However, for as long as she was in her home, no matter truly pressed. On the other hand, she couldn't stay confined in the comforts of her castle forever. Her duty defined her, made her who she was. She was a herald, not a human; a concept without content, a mind without a soul. Her existence depended on the demise of others, and she couldn't even be sad about it. She was taking her tea with a pinch of rum at the moment, because what she saw agitated her. Lucifer was being his own rowdy self (not that she expected anything else from him); he had been engaging in an ongoing coitus with his roommate, and he was using his own angel form for the task (possibly because he didn't wish to have a heart-attack), negligently, incautiously (he actually let his partner touch him all over!), and as if this wasn't bad enough – he had completely and utterly overlooked their contract. He has done nothing to promote the publication of Morgan's research, which was the only condition for him to borrow his flesh. But even that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst of it was Loki, who had convinced Mazikeen to follow her ex-lover unto Earth. No, there was nothing good about that idea. Only chaos could derive from demons visiting the world of man. And she, Death, couldn't but feel a little guilty about it. After all, it was she who had turned him loose out of her sympathy towards him. Due to the fact that she could identify with his will to be free from his obligations and boundaries. It was a caprice, a mad decision that now led to disastrous outcomes. And it was up to her to put everything right.

_But where would she begin?_

Death picked up her cat from her lap and put it gently on the floor so that she could leave her chair.

"Meow?" it padded after her, questioning, as she was heading for the door.

"I know that I make quite a fine kitty-cushion," said she –"but mamma has to go save the world."

"Meow!" the pet coiled, crisscrossing between her legs and tried to sharpen its nails on the fringes of her jeans.

Death huffed and picked him up, rubbing its head with her knuckles –"It'll barely be a moment for you till I'm back." She promised –"You won't even notice I was gone."

*

"I don't wanna change my face." Insisted Maz with her hands on her hips.

"I'm afraid that you have no choice." The apathy in his tone was beginning to get on her nerves. No. not beginning. Her nerves were already at an overload with his protracted, condescending drawl.

"Why, why don't I have a choice? If I come in a costume, how will he know that it's me? If he doesn't like me the way I a-"

"Oh, enough with that romantic blabber, child." The Trickster came up to her, and when he touched her shoulder over the leather she was wearing, cold percolated through the armour and extended in her chest. She hoisted her hand to brush him off, when to her marvel he began shapeshifting. It was subtle, at first. He seemed to be shortening in height as she followed the adaptation with her gaze until their eyes were aligned. Then, however, she realized he was becoming someone else. 'a beautiful woman', she thought, prior to his finalizing the transition. And she was standing opposite a girl whose hair was the shade of intense indigo, and in the shade of her hair hid the torn-down half of her visage. She was looking on her own representation, and it was unsettling.

"The people up there cannot tolerate this sort of appearance." He pushed his-her hair away from her face, commentating as she grimaced at her reflection, revolted to her guts –"Fancy a nose oozing blood?" he shoved his pinky up the destroyed nostril and smeared it on her armour – "an eye bulging so boldly it seems on the verge of dropping?- oops!" he jolted to catch the eyeball that skidded out of place and caught it as if was flying in the air, popping it back to its seating –"A mouth that keeps on drooling, perhaps?" he smiled at the demoness skeletally –"And have you any idea what you sound like when you speak with that mouth?" he commenced, then, distorting his-her face with something like pain, and when he spoke he spat and sprayed her on purpose, mimicking her speech: _"Oh, my darzlin Lusifur I jhazd low him zo mush!"_

Mazikeen punched him and the naked eye jumped out for the second time. The skirmished with each other for it for a few minutes, before falling to the carpet as one, rolling in a tangle of two Mazikeens -"Do you really wish to draw everyone's attention to yourself, Daughter of Lilith?" the Asgardian gritted in his own voice with an obvious effort. –"I am trying to HELP you!"

She was on top of him, pressing him idle in the vise-grip of her strong thighs, her face looming over him like a dark moon –"And you also had my benefit in front of you when you helped him leave?"

"For Valhalla's sake, Demon-Child! Did you expect me to refuse an offer to ditch my seat of honor under the deadly snake, swimming in my own fluids as my body burnt by acidulous poison? Huh? Have you any idea what it was like?"

Mazikeen clouded up.

"No, I didn't think you did."

"Knock knock!" the chirpy croon of a woman came from the direction of the hallway. As both Mazikeens turned their heads to see who the unwanted guest was, Death walked up to them with the grace of a gazelle. She was, as always, dressed in black, and her sleeveless top revealed red sunburns on her bony shoulders. "Jesus. Should have brought my umbrella."

The two demons leapt to their feet in impressive synchronization.

"Oh, is this a game?" her black lips stretched in a cordial grin –"Should I be guessing which one of you is the real Maz? Hmm… let me see." Her boots made no sound on the thick carpet. She scratched her chin, thoughtfully –"Well, this one is missing an eye." She pointed at Loki, who glowered –"So you must be the imposter. Gosh, that was easy." Lightly, she walked over to the sofa and sat there, crossing her legs elegantly.

"Hand it over!" growled Loki at Maz.

"Phhhooo!" the demon-child spat the eyeball out of her mouth, and it hit Loki on the tip of his nose. However, he managed to retrieve it with his magic before it fell, and stuck it back in place, angry. Then he shapeshifted back into his humanoid form, although (so Maz had been told), this also wasn't his real true self. Death giggled heartily. Her laughter- bells and bubbles in the breeze. Like a melody.

"May I ask what is so very amusing?" Loki diverted his anger towards the Lady in Black.

"Seriously, Locks. Stating the obvious is beneath me."

"And is it also beneath you to announce your arrival? OR to address me by my befitting title?"

"And what would that be?" returned Death calmly, still grinning.

"I am the Ruler of Hell, and it is only customary that you should-"

"Alright." Said Death –"You have stolen this title, for starters. Secondly, this is not the court of Asgard, but the basest place on earth, and nobody has to be nice or polite to anyone. Quite the contrary. Thirdly, you've tried to trick me. And although you failed, I am far from feeling anything similar to respect when I see you. And lastly, you eye is upside down."

The Trickster swore in a language unfamiliar to Mazikeen and screwed his eye back in the right position. He seemed furious. She could never imagine that that snowy skin of his could ever redden, but it did. He was practically the colour of the rooster's crest; and although she had been initially startled by Death's sudden arrival, she began growing fond of the woman and was rather content to watch her humiliating the jester.

"My lady, can I offer you anything to drink or eat?" Maz found herself saying, pleasantly.

"Not in your wildest dreams, you INSECT!" growled Loki and he was probably trying to look intimidating, but in fact he was falling apart at the seams.

"I don't assume you've got anything cold, eh? So just tea, thank you." Answered Death, ignoring Loki's outburst altogether. Mazikeen then strode into the kitchen and began filling up a pot with water, despite the fact the water was already steaming as it came out the tap. She felt somewhat protected by Death's presence, and just like her, didn't hold much respect towards Loki to begin with.

"How come they didn't inform me that you were coming?" he almost shrilled at the Lady. Mazikeen settled the pot on the ever-hot grill above the fireplace and stood by.

"Who?"

"My servants!" cried Loki –"They always blow the trumpets when you arrive at the gates!"

"Oh." Muttered Death, peeling the black paint off her fingernails –"beats me… but if you want to hear what I think, then let me simply suggest that they don't think of you as their king."

"That is utter nonsense!"

"Maybe." Death shrugged. Mazikeen was liking her more and more. When the water boiled she went to the kitchen again to fetch a cup and regretted she hadn't any proper tea to serve and definitely no sugar. The closest thing she had was a few dried lime leaves her master brought back from one of his journeys and stored in a jar, in his cabinet of secrets. Yes, she could tell it was a rare ingredient within these borders, but it was also a rare occasion. Without hesitation, she crushed the leaves and put the crumbles in a strainer. Then she retuned to the parlour and poured the hot water through the strainer into the cup, stirring the solution with a teaspoon made of silver. One of the nicest they had. Loki and Death were still arguing about whether or not he should be perceived as king in this kingdom, and whether or not he'd inherited the title rightfully, but as the aroma of lime rose into the air and touched their nostrils, Loki swiveled, more enraged than before and yelled at Mazikeen –"What have you done, you inbred crud?!"

"Tea." Returned Maz.

"Don't speak to her like that." Interfered Death.

"I will speak to her in whichever manner I see fit!" screamed Loki, and his eyes were turning red to match the shade of his face –"she has just wasted my witchcraft materials!"

"They don't belong to you, Locks." Death was reaching out her hand, to signal Maz that she was ready to accept the teacup. Mazikeen hurried to place it in her hand. "and anyways," added the lady –"I didn't come here to see you, so if you'll excuse us…" she took a long sip out of the cup –"ahh, this is not bad at all, considering."

"What mean you by it?!" demanded Loki.

"I mean it isn't disgusting, like most things in Hell are."

"No-"

"Listen." Death placed the cup on the coffee table and sounded much more serious than she has so far –"I am getting bored of this discussion. I feel that I've entertained you enough, when I came to speak with Mazikeen, and not your very clueless self."

"With that brat?" wondered Loki, but Maz felt a swell of pride in her chest and raised an eyebrow at the Trickster.

"Yep."

"Well, what about…?" said he, agitated.

"If you wish to stay here and listen to our conversation, then you can; but do not interrupt us because you've caused enough damage already."

It was odd, refreshing, to hear about someone else causing damage when she was usually, almost exclusively in the position of the saboteur. But what damage was Death referring to? And why would she want to discuss that with her, of all people?

"Come here, Maz. Sit with me." Death patted on the patch of couch next to herself –"we need to have a little chat, and there's not much time."

*

Slowly, Lucifer splayed his palm across Isley's exposed belly. He kept his fingers as much apart as he could, to cover more skin. She was shuddering in trepidation and rumbled under his touch. Smiling, he began applying the tiniest of pressures with his fingertips. It was more of a caress, and he lifted his head to check her expression. Her eyes were two wet orbs in the darkness, wide open. Her mouth was also open, and she was taking in short, shallow breathes; as though she feared to induce additional stress on her body whilst in its fragile state. 

"Is this nice, Flower?" his voice was silky, with an aura of burlesque.

"I don't know."

"I never told you to stop breathing." He pointed out and began moving his fingers in miniature ripples, straining and relieving the lush skin with the rhythmic motion. Pamela gave out a lustful moan, that was somewhat stolen from her against her will. The gasses that tormented her were noticeable under the flesh. There, in the depths of her underbelly they churned and fizzed, and he could guess it was painful to take, and even harder to keep inside. The fragrance of her arousal was paradoxically rising too, alongside her dread.

"Anxiety is a rather useless emotion." Bit by bit he was increasing the pressure, as well as the radius of his rubbing. He delayed at her navel and prodded into it with his forefinger, sensing that he was intruding in a way that was closely as intimate as copulation. She gasped in a fusion of brittleness and longing, and it was luring his stick and making it solid. "Because you know not what you fear and you get all worked up, preparing for the worst without being able to act upon it." He added a second palm and moved to massaging her deeper, lamenting the fact he had used up all the hand cream.

"Morg-" her upcoming plea was roughly cut off by a gurgle from her tummy. She twisted uncomfortably under his treatment –"Please. It hurts."

"I'm afraid that is the point." The Devil leaned over and took her nipple in his mouth, it was rigid and cold, contrasting with the plush tissue of her bountiful breast. He marveled at how big it was as he suckled hard, using one pain to distract her from the other. He felt her muscles tightening in protest between his fingers and it urged him to knead her with excessive intensity. Her inner parts were yielding and resisting alternately. Whenever the tug on her nipple became too sore, she'd forget about toughening her belly against his touch, and when the massage was growing fierce, she'd ease the hand that was pulling his hair.

_Pulling his hair._ It occurred to him that he had forgotten about his own rules, and had unknowingly given her a chance to feel him up and to discover his hair was rather different to Morgan's. Swearing silently, he shifted above her and opened his mouth just to tell her off –"Keep your inquisitive hands off me." While she obeyed, he growled and dove again to sink his teeth into the irritated bud. Isley cried in agony as he deliberately prolonged the bite without giving signs of ever letting go. He closed on it like a bulldog and was almost tempted to rip it off. Only that somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that this was a human being. She cannot heal easily like the residents of Hell he'd been fucking; and though he wanted to inflict pain on her, horrible, overwhelming pain, he did not wish to maim her.

Grudgingly, he let go of the nipple and exchanged it for a succulent kiss. Isley's mouth tasted of vanilla and tears and her small tongue was battling wonderfully with his. His eyes rolled back in immense pleasure because albeit attracted to him, this girl did not give herself due to love and not even passion. She seemed to be enjoying suffering for the sake of suffering only, and it was interesting. And positively enticing.

He sucked and plucked at her lips until they were puffed and pulsating hot, and after he was done with ravaging her mouth, he pulled slightly backwards to drive his cock to her entrance.

"No-" begged the ginger, because just like him, she'd realized having him inside her would heighten the load on her insides and push her yet against another limit.

"No." repeated Lucifer –"Curious. I remember a girl doing her best to make me fuck her only a couple of hours ago." He dragged his tip up and down through the slick –"She wanted it so bad she couldn't go to sleep." He pushed her upper petals open and circled her clit, which was erect.

"Yes, but-" panted Isley.

"Yes, but what?" chuckled Satan –"What's the worst thing that could happen, Flower?"

"I'd explode…" she almost sobbed.

"You would do no such thing." He continued playing with his cock across her entrance, pressing in his tip from time to time, then withdrawing. He enjoyed her choke of frightful expectation on each occasion when she thought he was going in. He could dally with this game for days, if given the option. _No. unfortunately she could not hold for much longer._

"I can't." Her head moved from side to side on the pillow, surrounded by her beautiful mass of hair. Her belly continued to make noises and her breasts were rising and falling with her hitched breathes.

"Do you not trust me?" his voice was drenched in irony as he crushed her tummy with his weight.

"Ouch- No!" out of instinct, perhaps, Pamela put her hands on his waist-bones, but he couldn't care less about what she was probably feeling with those cold fingers – the vital body of a young man. Or maybe he did care, but his penis was at the steering wheel, and it was pointing the direction and leading the way.


	38. Flowers of Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More BDSM from Ivy and Lucifer, and Lucifer discovers he has a heart. maybe.

_"You hurt me baby  
I [flinch](https://genius.com/15711027/The-afghan-whigs-my-curse/Flinch) so when you do  
Your kisses scourge me  
[Hyssop in your perfume](https://genius.com/15710985/The-afghan-whigs-my-curse/Hyssop-in-your-perfume)  
Oh, I do not fear you  
And "slave" I only use  
As a word to describe  
The special way I feel for you_

_Curse softly to me baby_  
And smother me in your love  
[Temptation comes not from Hell but from above](https://genius.com/15711064/The-afghan-whigs-my-curse/Temptation-comes-not-from-hell-but-from-above)…" [Afghan Whigs, 'My Curse'] 

"No, you mean you don't trust me, or no, you are trying to prevent me from taking you?" the devil was smiling like only the devil could, a smile that was detached from sentiment and in a way detached from his very face. Not that Isley were in any state to appreciate it.

"Both!"

"Spread your legs." He had to halt for she was aiming to lock her thighs together, but since he was in the middle, she was hugging him with them instead, like the sloth does the tree. He was in no hurry to bed her, but he did know he would not let her go to the toilets before his seed was swimming in her tunnel. It was she who needed to be worried about getting this over with as soon as possible. Her stomach never stopped grumbling since she awoke and he could feel it cramping under his body, undulating like a restless sea. It had to have been painful for her, and the thought was intoxicating to him.

"I won't. You can jerk yourself off." At first her comment of insolence stabbed his ego, for it had been so unexpected and untypical. Made him want to use his super-strength to compel her, to force himself on her – something he has actually never done. But then after a beat of mulling over it, a striking image came to his mind and made him come to terms with her disrespectful suggestion.

"You will not?" he asked, just for his entertainment.

"I will not." She repeated and pouted so sweetly he wanted to devour her pink mouth until it was crimson. But that could wait for later.

"I shall hold you to your word, then." Satan adjusted his position and climbed her until he straddled her belly, knowing that centering all his weight to burden her most troubled part did nothing but build up the strain on her intestines. With his knees folded in such a way, his old wound sparked up a new soreness- but he was willful to withstand that inconvenience in the name of sex. 

Without seeing him, the girl stared up into his face –"What are you doing?"

"Making love to you." Was his reply, as he reached between her legs to collect some of her dew and daubed his upright rod with it from top to bottom and back again. It felt slippery and addictive, and he had to contain himself as his cock fattened in his fist.

"This isn't love." Said she.

"No." he agreed, "But you're pouring." He noted, taking more of her sap and this time running it between her breasts. There was a change in her breathing as she realized what was about to manifest. She placed both her hands on his thighs, that were caging her down. Tense. Once again, he had to wonder at the fact that some acts were perceived as much more intimate by his partners, when they were innocent in comparison to the violence he delivered.

"How come you're so diffident all of a sudden?" this was an honest question, for he truly couldn't figure it out.

"Just embarrassed, Morgan." She turned her head sideways on the pillow, not looking up at him anymore.

"So embarrassed that you've forgotten about this?" he reached out behind him to caress her underbelly. She fidgeted to the touch and he leaned to kiss her cheek, gently. The submissives needed reassurance from time to time, when they were going some place bad inside their minds. It was his responsibility to make them feel safe, even when he was unsure about the trigger.

"It just makes me feel cheap."

"Cheap." Echoed Satan and proceeded to plant more kisses below her ear and alongside her jaw. He remembered the girls who popped up on his computer screen, on his first day of being Morgan, and he knew what she meant by it. "You're far from cheap."

"What makes you say that?"

Lucifer rubbed his nose against her lips before teasing them lightly with his tongue. He couldn't get enough of that smooth plumpness –"Because never in my life have I seen someone looking so majestic on their fours." That was inaccurate, but it was near enough to the truth. And regardless of the statement's reliability, he could feel the compliment settling in in the form of a heat wave moving through her frame. He then straightened and grabbed both her boobs, to press them together. Isley closed her eyes and gave a small whimper as he dipped his fingers into the flesh and placed a thumb on each nipple. Then he guided his dragon into the slope in the middle, having to push though sleek and buxom warps, as in straying in a labyrinth of sensuality with his dick. He automatically squeezed her harder and groaned, for the sensation was so good it made his mouth water.

"Oh, god-" panted the ginger, her hold on his hips becoming impetuous and unknowing, dangerously close to his cursed wound. It was just his luck, to hear her screaming his _father's_ name while he was the one giving her pleasure. Annoyed, he began fucking her breasts as he would her slit, with heinous and harsh motions, riding her as he did. Her moans were growing coarser in accordance with his style, and he allowed his dragon to stretch longer than before, for he knew he wasn't hurting her this way. It was so long now that its head was peeking from the other side till it slammed against her chin with each stroke.

"Funny that you lot do not believe he exists," he wondered if he was capable of forming bruises using only his cock, and he did his best to put that thesis to the test by pounding harder while cramming the tits as tightly as he could –"and yet you utter his name whenever you're in NEED."

The anger seemed to heighten the kick he was having, and he swore behind his teeth that he was going to revel in his upcoming orgasm. This time, he planned to cum in her mouth. Not spill into the throat, like his tendency was. No. He wished to witness the thickness of his extract exuding out of the margins of her lips once he's flooded that beautiful mouth. He was to punish this one daughter of Adam for the sins of fathers. Oh, that idea thrilled him beyond reason.

Once in every few batters, he would reach behind him to pick up more of the syrup from between her legs to apply to his dragon and ease the friction. Whenever he touched her there, Isley would arch her back minutely, as if begging him to enter, and a draft of her scent would swirl into the air and urge him to lose his sanity. That fragrance- something unique about it. Not just individual, but… coercive. It was turning him into a beast.

He could have taken her to the shower again, but that routine was beginning to prove itself as nothing but Sisyphean. If he'd wash her any more thoroughly in an effort to de-odor her, he'd have to scrape off her skin. And in any case, he was already too close to his peak to stop now. Remarkably and unlike himself, he allowed the pull of her drug drag him onwards. Becoming more and more ferocious and uncareful in his stabs, like an ignorant rookie.

"Do you want my finger inside you?" he offered, bluntly. fraudulently.

"Yes, yes, please-" groaned the redhead, and her stomach gurgled in reply.

Who was he to refuse such a request? He fastened her breasts together with his left arm, pushing them down until they were a condensed enough mass for his burning torch, and put his right hand to her entrance. Yet, instead of going in, his fingers toyed with her petals as if hovering over piano keys. She squirmed to close the distance and moaned in complaint, but he had locked her firmly in place by merely sitting on her, and there was no way for her to maneuver him, try as she might.

"Morgan-" her voice was so faint it was practically the ghost of a voice.

"Yes, my pretty Flower. I am here."

"Fuck me with your finger. . . please."

"I will. I promise." Said Satan and fucked her chest instead. It was hard to maintain two contradictory actions at the same time. One sharp and fierce of his rod between her boobs. This one he was a slave to, for it was almost doing that to him, instead of him being the inflictor. And another, delicate and heedful- his fingers fluttering at her petals and bud- this one was slow and measured, made to kill her softly. He was juggling between the two. One moment a reckless animal, the other a cold machine.

The way she was responding and melting beneath him made him feel he was king again. The one pulling the strings. He had missed that state of mind, because for as long he was in Hell, no power meant anything. He was only doing God's bidding. He was only a tool in the hand of his father, to crush the ones who had disobeyed him. Who had acted against HIS will. And so, however cruel he thought he was, it was only GOD being cruel through him. And that was not a way to be.

Not now.

Now he was his own agent, and he was loving it. A stowaway on the ship of his father's creation, getting his revenge by mutilating his loyal subject. Okay, not mutilating. Just fucking into oblivion. And it was enough to make him feel in charge. 

However, as his climax approached and accumulated at the base of his cock, he was less and less in control. He omitted the finger-work and gave himself to full-on, concrete grinding. His pelvis was leaving and landing on her belly as he pumped her madly, ignoring her labored breaths that suggested how she was struggling not to surrender to her bowels. Once he felt his spurt running through the tube, he hurried to chase it by letting go of her breasts and stuffing his dragonhead into her mouth. She made a chocked sound of surprise that was the background music to his explosive orgasm. He quaked as he spilled on her tongue and followed the fountain of cum he was filling her up with, with wide open eyes. Just like in his fantasy, her mouth overflowed and spilt at the edges. But he was still resentful enough not to back away or be content. As Isley managed to gulp on most of the semen, he helped her by pushing it in with his cock, frowning. He was so obsessed about it that he didn't notice how weak she was looking, and how her fair skin was turning pallid. He would have completely missed it if not for her words:

"I need a jab."

"Oh, I will jab you alright." He whirred darkly on her ear.

"No, I mean with a needle."

"What's wrong with my sword?"

"Morgan. The solution. The poison. It's time for my injection." She was patting him on his side to make him snap out of his mood, which did work. Suddenly he was wide awake and grumpy, and as dissatisfied as ever.

"What happens if you don't take it?"

"I die." She replied dryly. This was one theory that he did not wish to test. A pang of pity shook his chest, as though he'd cared. "There are a couple of syringes in my bag. You'll need to get one for me." She explained and then added –"Please."

Satan found himself slightly humbled by her ordeal. It was unpleasant to think of, that she had been the prisoner of an atrocious experiment without ever consenting or even knowing. He got out of bed and almost stumbled on his bad leg. –"Where is it?"

"Somewhere in the room. I don't remember where I chucked it. You could turn on the light-"

"Funny." He grumbled and began searching around the bed and in the vicinity of the working desk. He did not need the light in order to see. However, he did need to gather courage in order to inject toxins into her neck. Not because he feared the brutality of the act. He had been known for doing things of a much cruder nature. It's only that he was anxious of missing the vein or tearing it, and anxious about giving her too much or too little of it; and finally, he was cross about continuing what LeGrand had started, when he knew it to be wrong.

"Morgan?" the insecurity in her voice stirred him to a degree, and he realized that she couldn't even tell if he was still in the room with her.

"Found it." He answered flatly and picked up the bag from the chair by the desk, then stepped over to the bed and measured her –"I don't know how to do it."

"I'll instruct you." Said she and prompted herself on her elbows –"Come here."

He was timid, like a child, as he approached her and sat on the edge of the bed, handing her the bag. He watched her fumbling blindly in vain, until deciding to make himself useful by putting his hand in the bag and pulling out one of the syringes. It was as thin as a finger and its needle was capped with plastic. The thing she hated the most.

"Yes, that's the thing." She grimaced as she felt the syringe in his hand- probably despising the thing- stroking his fingers, as if by mistake, and then leaning back against the headboard. "Now uncap it, and put it to my neck. I will tell you when you're in the right place."

"Right." Was all he could say, feeling nervous. What he was holding was a lethal weapon, despite its modest appearance. It was no spear, nor an axe; but its size was misleading and its smell… was somehow familiar.

Beautifully, gracefully, Isley swayed her red mane and flicked it over her shoulder, exposing her neck for him. Lucifer found himself breathless for some reason, and could not hold back from pressing his lips to the patch just below her ear, kissing.

"What are you doing?" Isley giggled feebly.

"Sugar-coating the cure." He murmured against her throat, dizzy, and almost bashful due to the hardness of his dragon at that inappropriate time.

"Don’t-" she grabbed him by the hair to pull him back gently –"LeGrande used to do that- used to kiss my neck- before-"

"I know."

"Whatcha mean you know?" she wondered.

"Seems probable." He replied bitterly, and their eyes locked for a second. He had grown quite fond of her hand in his hair, and of that questioning tug- but at the same time hated himself for it. He uncapped the needle with his teeth and began dragging it over her neck at the speed of a snail. –"say when."

"Here." Said Isley just when he was pointing at one of the older holes. He was amazed by her accuracy, but again, said nothing.

"Okay." She said and swallowed, shutting her shiny eyes –"You'll need to drive the needle all the way down first. This bit you'll need to do fast, because it hurts."

"And then?" he grunted, his heart beginning to race, preparing him for the task.

"And then you pump in the fluid. This you do slowly. Like… like you're watering a plant… okay? Is that clear enough?"

"Hmm." Grunted Lucifer through pursed lips. His hand began to shake, and he had to stabilize it by the elbow with the other one. He knew not what he was afraid of, but it was obvious that he was. He wanted to get this over with, and at the same time, he wanted it to last. Nevertheless, his fickle hand did not leave him much of a choice. He had to use it while he still could.

"I'm going in." he warned, and without waiting for her confirmation, pierced her with the needle. He was grateful for using quite some force when he did, for the neck was not as willing as other organs. It was filled with strong muscles that were designed to hold the head up, and he could comprehend now why she told him to do it quickly. He would not have been able to penetrate through otherwise.

"Ahhh!" Isley wailed miserably and clutched onto him with such intent he wanted to hug her, but was unable to, as he had to hold still.

"Hush." Was all he could say –"You've been through this before, Flower. You can take it." But really he was worried. –"Tell me when to proceed." It was unnatural for him to wait for orders. Reminded him of the old days in the Kingdom of Heaven, when he was nothing but a servant. Yet here, and now, the woman giving him orders was not trying to take advantage of him, nor take him for granted. He was only servicing her because he himself had made her idle. And he was-

Pushing down the fluid, absent mindedly-

"No-" she clawed at him, and he immediately stopped –"not yet, not yet, not yet…"

"Alright. Not yet." He repeated, astonished by his own actions, kissing her eyes, that were wet without moving his hands. They both breathed together for a while. The needle immersed in her throat, her fingernails imbedded in his upper arms. If there was pain involved, he couldn't sense it. All he knew was the throb in his dragon and the flame in his loins.

*

"-to bring him back where he belongs." Finished Death, and placed the empty teacup on the table in front of them.

"I will do whatever necessary." Nodded Maz –"Whatever you tell me to do. But… but if the fate of the world depends on it-"

"Then what?"

"Then perhaps, my lady…" Mazikeen lowered her one good eye –"I am not the woman for the mission."

"If not you, then who?"

"I… I do not know, my lady. What about another angel? Someone who could talk sense into him?"

Death burst into a laughter –"You really reckon he'd listen to an angel? They put him here in the first place! He fucking hates their guts!"

Maz flushed and coughed a little –"I guess he does… but… why would he listen to ME?"

"Because you're the only friend he's got."

*


	39. Where the Stinging Nettles Grow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maz is sent to fetch Luci back from Earth, but he's busy fucking Ivy and might not be so keen on coming along :P

_"I remember falling_ _  
Falling back  
Into that tangled bed  
A mesh of twigs  
Deflowered like a virgin bride  
In the ground swell of spring  
Underneath that deciduous canopy_ **_" [Firewater, 'The Circus']_ **

"I do not trust him." Confessed Maz to Death –"A failing mage that he is!"

Loki, who had his hand on her cheek in an attempt to re-mold it rolled his eyes impatiently –"Let us admit to the truth, Demon-Child. How much _worse_ could it possibly be?"

"Fair point well delivered!" growled a gargoyle who was seated on the banister. "She's as ugly as the hog's bottom!" and he was roaring in laughter before beginning to chant:

_"A demoness with half a face_

_No drop of beauty, lack of grace-"_

And his mate replied from the top of the stairs:

_"Ugly from the outside in,_

_Melting mouth and peeling skin-"_

And together their hoarse voices combined to a perfect cacophony:

_"Horrid heart and head deformed,_

_Her cunt is a can or worms_

_Rotting in the night and morn,_

_Reeking stench from dusk to dawn-!"_

"For fuck's sake!" Death snapped and glared at the ogres –"You're making my brain cook, as if it isn't hot enough around here. This is the lamest song I've ever heard. Now shut your foul mouths and bugger off before I nail my heel up your lumpy bums!"

"Sorry, my lady-" mumbled one and both monsters scooted out through the hole in the roof in a zigzag flutter accompanied by burps. Their third counterpart, Mazikeen guessed, was still crippled and too scared to be anywhere near her after what she had done to him.

"What has gotten into these idiots?" Death was asking Loki, as he was stretching the skin from Maz's good half to cover the other, elongating it with magic. It felt odd and it tickled.

"Infatuation." Replied the Asgardian and formed an eyelid to cover Maz's bad eye. She blinked experimentally and was surprised to discover how relieved she felt, now that the eye was humid and didn't sting anymore for the dryness.

"Infatuation?"

"Yes. The only thing that could drive every being mental, aside for grief." He brushed the eyelid with a slender finger, and a row of lashes sprouted from the skin with a tingling sensation –"You see," added Loki –"Like our brat here, they are in love with Luci, and they express their envy by being obnoxious. T'is not uncommon."

Death giggled –"Sounds legit." She strode until she was in Mazikeen's eyeline, tilting her head sideways to assess Loki's work –"You're quite the artist when you're not vehement."

"I hold the utmost respect for magic." He said defensively –"and I wanted to put that face right for a long time now."

_How long?_ Wondered Maz. _How long since her Master left?_ How long was she walking around in her destroyed face without being aware of it, keeping up a day-to-day routine without ever glancing in the mirror, because she didn't want to be reminded of how pretty she felt on the day she put on the armour he'd given her.

"Good." Commented the black lady –"She looks great."

Loki seemed to glow momentarily due to the compliment, but his face rapidly wore its former concentration as he touched the tip of her nose, and she could breathe properly again.

"Might I remind you, Lady Death, that _I_ was the one who initially suggested the brat should go see him."

"You might."

"AND that I suggested she should wear an appropriate face- correction- _A_ FACE, when she goes about it?"

"Yes." Nodded Death –"but you've given her no plan to work with."

They were both talking about her as if she weren't in the room, and Maz felt like a statue under the scalpel of the sculptor. She squinted her eyes at Loki when he began meddling with her lips- stretching them this way and that to cover her bare teeth.

"And what, might I ask, is so great about your plan?" he pinched the remains of Maz's nose and reconstructed them into something that felt more firm –"Dragging him back home by his cock? Because I hear that his cock is occupied."

Maz suppressed the urge to stab him, for she knew that if she moved it could wreck her reformed visage.

"Attraction derives from the mind, Loki, and not from your sex organs." Said Death.

"Maybe that is the case with _you_ females." Smirked the Trickster, and added with an afterthought –"although when I choose to walk about in the shape of a lady, my clit gets a boner if I encounter - - "

"Alright, alright." Death rolled her eyes –"I couldn't care less about your sexual habits."

"Your loss." Loki shrugged –"anyways, here is your princess. Ready to play the bait." He spread his arms proudly and stepped aside to let Death get the full view of the fixed Maz. At first the demoness mistook Death's expression to be disapproving; but when the Black Lady came closer and smoothed her hair away from her face she could tell she was content.

"Don't mind him." She said to Maz coolly. –"You're not a bait, and you will certainly not drag anyone anywhere by their cock. I hope."

"It would not be the first time." Joked Mazikeen, feeling her confidence returning.

"I'm sure it won't." Death put a hand on her armoured shoulder –"but I do not need you to be a soldier on this one, but a _thief_. For most of the time, you'll have to be invisible and sneaky, which I know is not a problem for you. Remember not to speak to him or make yourself shown before it's the right time. And don't fret because of the computer. If you follow my instructions thoroughly, you'll only have to deal with it once."

"If it's a manmade machine, then don't get your hopes too high." Jeered Loki –"I hear she's had trouble even with the tap."

Mazikeen leapt unto her hands, grabbed Loki around the neck with her ankles while upside down, and knocked him over flourishingly. She wiped her palms on her leather pants after straightening back and awarded him with a kick to the knee –"Shut up."

"Ouch!" complained Loki, having bitten his tongue for the fall.

"Better get the hint and refrain from using it for a while." Offered Death kindly before turning to Maz once more –"Here." She handed her a piece of paper –"I put down everything you'll need to do. Step by step. Don't lose it."

"I've already memorized it, my lady."

"Aren't you the charm." Said Death admiringly.

"She is, if you're referring to vood-" the Trickster was kicked by Maz again before landing on his back with a huff –"oo."

"Seems to me she doesn't need it in order to inflict pain on you…"

*

Isley had to admit to herself that although he did not use sedatives or done it secretly, the man who wasn't Morgan was better at delivering the injection than LeGrande has ever been. There was even something alluring about the way he held her head over her ear as he emptied the fluid into her vein. The reprieve was immediate, and because she was late in taking the dose there was also a trippy titillation that came with it and made her woozy.

"Gosh." She said and exhaled the air she was keeping in her lungs for some time –"Thanks."

"Right." He pulled the needle out prudently. He has become awfully quiet and laconic ever since she asked his assistance with the pheromones.

"You okay?" she found herself touching lightly to his bicep, a compact pile of energy which characterizes those who visit the gym at least 4 times a week. Morgan would be out of breath after merely carrying his dishes to the sink.

"I'm not the one who needs poison in order to stay alive, so aye. I am in order."

She closed her eyes and let the drug flow through her body and relax every nerve tip and each muscle; but feared she might become too tranquilized to maintain her control over her bowels.

"I still need to use the toilets." She reminded him casually –"You could fuck me after, if you wish. Even in my sleep."

"Funny, but I do not require your permission." He pushed his arm between the headboard and the small of her back and nudged her towards him, before reclining her against him and lifting her –"I'll carry you there and wait by the door until you're done."

"That's not at all creepy." She remarked and wanted to add something, but her mouth brushed his collarbone accidentally and for some reason it wiped out all her sense of humour and left her aroused. Not that she was falling for him, but she was not-not falling for him. She began questioning her innate attraction to older men. –"Will you at least tell me what time is it? If it's night or day?"

"What difference does it make?" was his answer as he placed her on the toilet seat and walked away towards the door.

"What if people start to wonder where I am?" she called after him.

"You have ten minutes. Make sure you finish your business before the time is up, for I will come and fetch you whether you're ready or not."

"Would you mind _at least_ taking a few steps back? Wait in the kitchen or something? The door doesn't close all the way…"

"So?"

"So it could be-" she wanted to say 'smelly' –"embarrassing."

"Not to me."

"Yes, but-"

"You've already lost 30 seconds."

What a puzzling man he was. Well, considering the fact she was completely reliant on him, there was no room for shame. She lifted the plastic seat (she hated the texture anyways) and pressed her buttocks as far down as she could into the bowl, to seal in whatever mortifying noise or smell. She believed the awkwardness would prevent her from releasing, but in fact the pressure on her insides was so critical it was truly like uncorking champagne. She turned to flush down the toilet before she was even done, making sure to do so every few seconds so that the shit would never see the light of day. Or lack thereof.

The relief was huge compared to the one induced by the drug, and when she got to her feet she felt so light she was almost flying. She naturally stepped into the shower, blind sighted by the fuzzy feeling as well as by the dark. She washed herself clean as quickly as she could, grabbed a towel from the hanger and began rubbing herself dry when she heard the door creaking open and he was beside her again –"Let me." He said. It wasn’t a suggestion, but a command. She wordlessly handed him the towel and he draped it over her head, stood behind her and began massaging her scalp with it, squeezing her hair into it and shifting her head in the desired direction, as though she were a puppet.

"You haven't done this before, have you?"

"What." He barked.

"Groomed someone. Washed them. Dried them. Spoiled them."

"How did you get to that conclusion?" his voice was raspy. Offended, perhaps.

"Because you're being crude."

"Maybe I want to be crude." The bite on her earlobe was sharp and sudden. As she shrieked he turned her and hugged her, just as suddenly. This one hug was not sexual or domineering, although tight. She gasped and eased into the embrace, returning it by hanging onto his shoulders and letting herself be squashed to his figure. He was tall. His skin polished and hairless, his chest broad and graceful and he moaned when he held her, like he was starving or in pain.

Wanting to make him better, Pamela began kissing the body part that was closest to her- the dimple in the middle of his breast. Her mouth fit just into it, and she hummed as she dipped her lips in that little niche. She couldn't tell why simply being close to that stranger was such a turn-on, but that was just the way it was. Maybe the drug was making her brainless, and maybe it was this adventure, the verge of danger, the fact she had already crossed to many of her lines. But she wanted to taste more.

"Can I suck you off now?" she heard herself say, promiscuously.

"No." he grunted and tightened his grip over her –"You're not allowed to."

"What kind of a man says no to a blowjob?" _perhaps not a man. If not a man, then what?_

There was no reply. Instead, he picked her up again and carried her with him, but not to the bedroom. She only knew where they were when he put her on the kitchen counter, which was cold and damp beneath her arse.

"Now let us see how we can otherwise satisfy your hunger." He yanked her legs apart and she only knew what he meant when the nozzle of an empty glass bottle was driven into her by his skillful yet crude hand.

*

As the sounds of battle roared in the field below in total mayhem, and many more angels and demons dropped from the skies like the rain of doom; Lucifer realized that his brother was right. He had to prove himself worthy of this army, if he wanted them to follow. Had to show the demons that there was still spite in him, regardless of his angelic appearance.

He gathered his large wings about him and jumped from the top of the hill head forwards, into the carnage. He speared and spun through the air, and his wings caught fire due to the heavy friction. Being the Lord of Light, he was oblivious to the heat, but the masses beneath noticed his spectacular dive, and pointed at him, shouting a mixture of jabber and cries of terror. He knew he must have looked awe-striking as a flaming ball speeding in their direction, and he was grateful for the fact they were way too late in spotting him.

Purposely, he crashed into a group of angels who were busy beheading a bunch of crossbred children. _To eradicate the seed of the divine that had dispersed among humans_. They never saw him coming, and he hit them with an explosion that sent their lifeless bodies flying upwards on a mushroom of dust, before being pulled back down because of gravity.

He could not see in the moments after, for smoke and rubble engulfed him; but he could hear the eerie silence that conquered the battlefield, and his own, strenuous breathing. He was crouching on the brink of a pit that was so deep and dark it seemed to be bottomless. He spread his wings to shake off the ashes, and scowled as his burnt feathers regrew, emerging from his still scalded skin.

Then there was screaming. And it wasn’t human. And it wasn’t demonic.

The shrill of angels was an earsplitting, abhorrent vibration. It not only made your hair stand up, but it also grabbed you by your soul and crunched it until you were begging for deafness. However, at this very moment the sound was nothing to him but a melodic lilt. He _smiled_ when the hovering cinder cleared somewhat, and he could see them, scattered here and there. Angels were bending over the corpses of their brothers- some so lacerated they were unrecognizable- wailing and weeping.

Of course, they never thought they would lose any of the host in this war. Of course, they were too proud to even consider such a scenario. Huh. _Would you punish **them** for their pride, Father dear?_ Thought Lucifer.

He then glanced upwards and found Michael where he'd left him on the hill, staring back at him. The smile was still hung on his lips, but Michael didn’t smile back. He nodded at him solemnly, as though he'd respected him.

And then came the demons. Slowly, gingerly and limping, they approached him one by one to form a circle around him, around the pit. There were more than he'd imagined, more than he could believe, and as they crowded in expanding rings like black flies over rotting meat, he became almost overwhelmed. _Were all of these sinning angels? If so many of them had sinned, why hasn't God figured out that there was something faulty with the system?_

Just as slowly, just as gingerly, Lucifer rose and straightened, one vertebra at a time. The gazes of thousands of eyes looked up to him with quiet admiration. It was only when he stood utterly upright and taller, higher than all of them, that the first demon hoisted his blade and hollered: "Hail Lucifer!"

"Hail Lucifer!" answered the monstrous throng unanimously, like a heavenly choir.

*

_Oh, how he wished she'd call him by his name._ The name that construed him, the name he'd earned. But he could not reveal his identity. She would not believe him even if he did. Plus he could vaguely remember he was not permitted to, but could not recall exactly why.

"Hold onto my shoulders." He said. He was between her legs, screwing a bottle into her hole. Another fresh sensation for her to explore, that for some reason made her skittish.

"You're a sick man." She panted and squeezed his shoulders like she was about to dislodge them. He sort of enjoyed the fact she was unloading her tension by transferring it to him.

"How come?" he twisted the nozzle inside her just as she was opening her mouth to answer. The forming words turned into a sigh of raw passion –"Is it because I wish to see if you could fill that bottle with your nectar?"

"Exactly." She leaned her forehead against the place where his neck connected with his chest. Breathing in and out, which was very cooperative.

"Do you reckon you can take it all the way in, Flower?"

"No." she was licking his veins over his skin, and then smearing the saliva with her perky nose. The Lord of Light took her chin in his free hand and lifted her head until she could look at him, probably seeing a blur.

"From here on out, you will call me 'Sir'"

*


End file.
